Threads
by electricskeptic
Summary: Sometimes, a single thread is all that holds a relationship together. But no matter the extent of the damage, as long as that one thread remains there is some small hope of fixing what can seem irreparable.
1. Round One

The Mighty Boosh and all of its affiliated characters etc belong to Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and Babycow Productions. No copyright infringement is intended and I'm not making any money from this. Don't sue me, I'm skint.

**Author's Ramblings: **Just wanted to explain a few things before I get going. Feel free to skip ahead, but be warned that there will be spoilers for all episodes of the Mighty Boosh.

'Threads' is basically just a series of missing scenes and epilogues for all twenty episodes of the three seasons of the Mighty Boosh released to date. Each chapter will relate to a different episode, and there will be a recap of that episode at the start of that chapter, in case anyone's forgotten what it was about. The chapters do follow on from each other, as it's sort of my way of trying to link all the episodes together. They tend to focus on the developing relationship between Howard and Vince, and how that relationship (in my eyes, anyway) changes over time to become something more. Needless to say, it is heavy on the Vince/Howard UST, and later on, out-and-out slash, so if that's not your thing, you might wanna try something else. Basically, if you don't like the idea of the two of them being in a romantic relationship, you probably won't like this. Other than that, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

- - - - - X - - - - -

_**'Killeroo'** **episode recap**: Bob Fossil, manager of the Zooniverse, attempts to blackmail keeper Howard Moon into taking part in a shady and highly illegal boxing match by telling him he has pictures of Howard naked. At first, Howard refuses, stating that he has nothing to be ashamed of, but when he shows the pictures to his assistant Vince Noir, it becomes apparent that he has some kind of deformity on his chest. Howard's self confidence is shattered when Vince reacts badly to the photos, running away from him and branding him a freak. Vince eventually persuades Howard to take part in the boxing match, telling him that it will impress fellow keeper Mrs Gideon, with whom Howard is deeply infatuated. Howard is sceptical at first, but Vince assures him that he is an expert at boxing, having come from a whole family of pros, and Howard reluctantly agrees._

_After several botched attempts to train his friend up with some 'educational' kangaroo videos, Vince takes Howard to his uncle's gym, where he tries to get himself in shape for the big fight with a training montage. The uncle deems him to be a lost cause, and states that there is only one thing left to try - letting him beat a weaker opponent. The trick works a little_ too _well, as - after knocking out a schoolboy with a single punch - Howard is now certain that he can win the fight. Vince is less confident however, and goes to Naboo - a shaman who works at the zoo - for advice. Unfortunately, Naboo's idea of help is to blow dust in his face._

_Vince's guilty conscience catches up with him as he realises the seriousness of the situation, and he tries to talk Howard out of the fight. By this stage, however, Howard is determined to go through with it, believing himself to be a boxing champ. Vince eventually falls into an uneasy sleep in which he is plagued by disturbing dreams that ask the question 'How do you get to Killeroo' over and over again in song format. When he wakes, he shares this with Howard, who tells him not to worry - dreams don't mean anything. Vince is less than reassured by this though, as signs from the dream continue to haunt him throughout the day._

_When the time of the fight finally arrives, Howard gets beaten to a pulp by the kangaroo. Vince tells him that there has been a terrible mistake; he doesn't know anything about boxing at all - in fact, he is a French duke. After only a few minutes, Howard is knocked down to the floor. Vince urges him to stay down, but Mrs Gideon's timely arrival gives him the courage to continue. Just as the Killeroo is about to finish Howard off, Vince has a flashback from his dream and realizes that the only way to defeat a kangaroo is to grab its balls. He does so, and Howard finishes it off with a punch to the face. The crowd go wild, not expecting Howard to have won at all, and Howard celebrates by taking off his shirt and throwing it into the audience, exposing his hideous deformity for all to see._

**Round One**

Vince wasn't sure how it had happened, but one minute, he and Howard had been dancing around the ring on a euphoric high, ecstatic over their victory, and the next, Howard was shouting at Gideon like a deranged banshee and preparing to take off his top. Vince darted forwards, desperate to stop his friend from making what could possibly be the worst mistake of his life.

"No!" He screamed hoarsely, frantically signalling with his arms for Howard to stop. "NOOO!!"

It was too late, however. Howard pulled the sweat-stained garment over his head and threw it out into the crowd, still cheering and whooping. The crowd stopped the racket they were making all at once, shocked into silence by what they were seeing. Vince backed away into the corner of the ring, both horrified and full of pity for the other man. Somewhere, he was dimly aware of Fossil dropping his microphone, every bit as stunned as the rest of them. Mrs Gideon quickly left the room with her hand over her mouth, averting her eyes. Vince felt a kind of perverse pleasure, watching her go. It served Howard right, in a way. He had gotten up for _her_, after all. He had gotten up for her, despite Vince warning him to the contrary. Who did he think had his best interests at heart, Vince or Gideon? Gideon didn't give a shit about him, she couldn't even remember his _name_ most days. But that didn't matter to Howard in the slightest. He was _obsessed_ with her. At the end of the day, Howard cared more about that cold-hearted bitch than he ever would about Vince, his best friend. And it hurt. Vince never would have thought that it could hurt so much, but it did.

Pushing his irrational jealousy aside for the moment, Vince forced himself into action out of sheer pity for his friend. Howard was looking more and more mortified by the second, shifting uncomfortably, apparently having realized the error of his ways. Despite how much the older man might drive him up the wall sometimes, Vince would never truly want to see Howard get hurt. Besides, this whole situation was kind of his fault. If only he hadn't pushed Howard into doing the fight under false pretences. If only he hadn't reacted so badly when he saw those photos. They weren't _that_ bad... well, okay, they were, but - and everyone was _still staring!_ What were they all staring at, the useless toadstools? Hadn't Howard suffered enough? Vince stepped up to his friend, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Oi!" He shouted out at the crowd. "What are you lot lookin' at?! There's nothing to see here! Clear off, yeah?"

And they did. Pointing and laughing and muttering amongst themselves, but they did, filing out of the door in twos and threes until there was only Fossil and Joey Moose left in their little box, and Naboo still standing uncertainly by the ropes.

"Yeah, well," Fossil was saying, "I've got a cat that needs hanging, so... I want you back at work tomorrow, Moon! No excuses, or I'll fire your ass! And get something done about that... _thing_, you disgusting freakshow!"

Howard didn't say anything, still reeling with shock. Vince would have been sorely tempted to march over and punch Fossil's revolting flabby face in, had his job not been on the line. He watched as his boss left the room, closely followed by Joey Moose. Naboo turned to Vince and raised his eyebrows meaningfully, before following suit. And then there was just Howard and Vince, alone together the way they should be. Vince put a comforting arm around Howard's shoulders, shaking the other man slightly.

"Howard?" He probed gently. "Come on, Howard."

He was surprised and a little hurt when Howard shook him off, pushing him gently but firmly to the side and backing away a couple of paces. The distance between them was no more than ten feet, but it might as well have been ten miles. Vince felt isolated and alone, and Howard seemed distant and unreachable to him.

"Howard, come on, talk to me." He tried again.

"Just leave it, Vince." Howard replied in a quiet voice.

Vince bit his lip and closed the gap between them, reaching out to touch Howard's arm again. Howard pulled it out of his grasp roughly and walked away once more, like they were doing some kind of bizarre dance.

"Howard -"

"I said just _leave_ it, Vince!" He repeated, looking anywhere but at Vince. "I've got stuff to do. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Not waiting for a reply, he walked out, leaving Vince standing alone in the deserted room. The younger man sighed and pulled out the compact mirror he always carried with him, absently fluffing his hair. Eyeing up his reflection, he grinned in spite of himself - he _knew_ he looked good in this hat.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard was moping on the sofa feeling sorry for himself when Vince entered the hut, looking contrite and a little nervous.

"All right?" He asked, looking at Howard as if he was a bomb that was about to go off. For some reason, this irritated Howard no end.

"No, I'm not bloody all right, am I?" He snapped, taking even himself by surprise with the vehemence he displayed. "I can never show my face in public again! I"m going to be a laughingstock! Gideon will never want to look at me again."

_Not that she looked at you in the first place,_ a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered. He mentally gagged the voice with some Sellotape he had lying around. "I'll only be able to go out at night... I'll have to creep about in the shadows. The Shadow Man, they'll call me. And if there's no shadows handy, I'll have to wear a paper bag over my face."

"It's not really your face that's the problem, is it?" Vince replied helpfully, struggling not to laugh. Howard gave him one of his worst looks. He always had something to say, didn't he? He just couldn't resist.

"Oh, come on, Howard." He tried again, sobering. He took up his place perched on the edge of the sofa, arms wrapped loosely around his knees. "It's not as bad as all that, is it? I mean, sure, people might be enjoying themselves, talking about how disgusting and repulsive you are right now -"

"Thanks, Vince."

"- But give them a few weeks, and they'll find something far more interesting to fixate on. You'll see, the whole thing will just blow over."

Howard hardly dared hope. "Well, it's easy for you to say that, isn't it? You're Vince Noir - everything's sunshine and roses for you, life's just a walk in the park. I bet you've never been embarrassed in your life."

"'Course I have!"

Howard was intrigued, despite himself. "Really?"

"Yeah! I'm not perfect, you know. I do come pretty close, mind, but still... I've been embarrassed loads of times!"

"Yeah? Name one."

"Oh, umm... I know! There was that one time when I went out wearing green Chelsea boots and a purple cape." He shook his head, laughing at the memory. "Total nightmare! Don't know _what_ I was thinking. I ended up on the front cover of _Heat_ and everything!"

Howard looked at him in disbelief. He was so... _simple_. For some reason, he found it quite endearing. Not that he was going to admit that. "I think this goes a little deeper than wearing the wrong colour combo, Vince."

"What do you mean?"

Howard sighed dramatically. "I exposed a part of myself today, a dark, intimate part that I've never shown to anyone else before. I bared my soul before the congregations, and they just mocked me."

"They just didn't understand you, Howard. Your soul was so rich and vibrant that it scared them, and they ran away, like headless chickens at an eighties electro rave." Vince's eyes widened, a dim light bulb going off somewhere in his head as he talked. "Don't you see? You've got edge now!"

Howard could tell that Vince didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about, but for some reason, he was beginning to feel better anyway. As though Vince simply _wanting_ him to be happy was enough to make it happen. "Really?"

"Yeah!" The smaller man bobbed his head enthusiastically, warming to his theme. "You're like Phantom of the Opera, or - or that other guy who creeps around in a mask. There's a darkness to you that intrigues people, Howard."

"Hmm... you think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, you may be hideously scarred and ugly -"

"Okay, I think that's enough now -"

"- But that's just part of your charm. It just draws people in even more. Everyone loves a tragic hero. Gideon'll be all over you like a rash tomorrow."

"Here's hoping." Howard muttered.

Vince sighed abruptly. "Howard... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you do the fight."

Howard shook his head. "It's not your fault. I should have known better. I shouldn't have let Fossil get to me. I shouldn't have dragged you into it in the first place."

Vince slid from his perch on the arm of the sofa to the seat next to Howard, until they were so close that their thighs were touching. "I just... I wanted you to be happy. I thought that if you did the fight and you won, you'd get with Gideon and people would like you, and then you would be. Happy, I mean."

Vince's quiet admission took Howard by surprise, and he looked at his friend - really looked at him - for the first time in a while. Vince was a lot of things, not all of them good, but whatever else, it was painfully obvious that he really did care for Howard, even if he didn't always show it. What was less obvious was that Howard cared for Vince just as much - even if he _never_ showed it. Acting on impulse, he put his arm around Vince's skinny frame, pulling him close. It was only intended to be a friendly gesture of gratitude, but it felt good - _really_ good. More than that, it felt _right_. The longer the moment went on for, the more Howard became aware of this fact, and the more uncomfortable he felt, until, eventually, he moved away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"So... erm... what shall we do now?"

Vince looked just as confused as Howard felt. "I dunno... Cuppa tea?"

"Oh, go on then. Why not?"

As the younger man got up to boil the kettle, their eyes met, and Vince's face broke into one of his trademark grins. Howard couldn't help but smile back. No matter what else happened, they had each other, and for now, that would be enough. As long as they stuck together, everything else would be okay.

As long as they stuck together, it always was.

* * *

**A/N: **So what did ya think? Love it, hate it? Let me know! 'Mutants' is up next, and should be posted sometime tomorrow, although I can't make any guarantees. You know how it is.

All reviews are HUGELY appreciated. I've even written 'hugely' in HUGE letters to demonstrate.


	2. Freaks

**Author's Ramblings: **So, here's the next instalment, as promised. I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I wasn't expecting it to generate so much positive feedback. It really does mean a lot to me.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_**'Mutants' episode recap:** Vince shows off his talent for painting by working on an impressive portrait of Bollo, an ape who lives at the zoo. When Howard asks him to do his portrait, Vince declines, claiming that he can't do people, and anyway, Howard's face is too generic. Howard takes offence at this, and becomes even more agitated when Mrs Gideon, Head of Reptiles, drops by to tell Vince that her python has gone missing. Howard is somewhat infatuated with Gideon, but she is obviously rather taken with Vince. Vince realizes this, and plays it to his full advantage. When Gideon compliments his picture, he offers to paint her - even suggesting she poses nude. After she leaves, Howard threatens Vince, warning him not go near her again, but he is distracted when the pair realize that Bollo has gone missing._

_Meanwhile, Fossil is presents Gideon's python to Dixon Bainbridge, owner of the zoo, having stolen it for Bainbridge's twisted experiments. When he is ordered to fetch another animal, he reveals that there are none left. He is then told to get a human instead. Fossil argues briefly, saying that the keepers are already beginning to get suspicious, but when Bainbridge promises to involve him in his 'shady operations' he goes to smooth things over with the staff, telling them that the python killed one of their workmates. This is met with uproar, particularly from Gideon, who encourages the others to stand up to Fossil. Bainbridge steps in to try and regain control, and Howard challenges him to a fight. He agrees, but is distracted at the last minute, momentarily letting Howard off the hook._

_Gideon enlists Vince's help in tracking down her python, having heard that he can talk to animals. He agrees reluctantly, continuing to flirt with her in order to annoy Howard. After a brief conversation with the cobra, he has a vision and realizes that Bainbridge has taken both the python and Joey Moose, the missing keeper. Howard sets off on a solo mission to find them in an attempt to impress Gideon. However, things don't go quite according to plan, as his pathetic attempts at espionage result in him being taken by Bainbridge, who plans to splice his head onto the body of a python._

_Vince shows up in the nick of time to rescue Howard, after first relentlessly teasing him and making him promise never to try and manage on his own again. Whilst fleeing from Bainbridge's secret lab, the pair discover the truth about his horrifying experiment - a race of mutants cobbled together from the body parts of different animals. Howard promises them their freedom, and Vince releases them from their cage. After overpowering Bainbridge, the mutants leave the zoo behind them to begin a new life. Howard and Vince return the python to Gideon, who seems unable to express her gratitude - mainly because she still can't remember Howard's name..._

**Freaks**

Howard Moon awoke with a gasp, panting heavily as he sat bolt upright in his sleeping bag. That had been one crazy dream and then some. He had dreamt that he had the body of a snake - a python, to be exact - unable to do anything except writhe around uselessly on the floor at Bainbridge's feet. The owner of the zoo had mocked and taunted him while Fossil sang 'Nicey nicey zoo, zoo...' over and over again in the distance. And Vince had been there, too, making an odd kind of purring sound as Gideon stroked his hair.

_"It's an improvement, if you ask me," He'd said, "Your face doesn't look quite so generic now."_

And then they'd all laughed. They'd laughed and laughed and laughed, Vince and Gideon and Fossil and Bainbridge, spinning around him until they all blurred together and he couldn't tell one apart from the other.

"It wasn't real," He told himself firmly, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Get a hold of yourself. It was just a dream."

He became aware of a warm weight pressed against his side, and he turned slightly to find himself face-to-face with Vince, slumbering away peacefully, completely oblivious to Howard's inner turmoil. The older man couldn't help but smile as he gazed at his friend. Vince's hair was rumpled with sleep, crushed against the pathetic excuse he had for a pillow. The shadows played across his pointed features, making them seem even more prominent than usual. The sharp angles of his cheekbones jutted forwards, creating valleys with the long, slightly crooked slope of his nose... yes, Vince certainly did have a unique face. How had Howard described it earlier? Oh, yes, 'visually noisy'. An accurate description, but not necessarily a bad one, despite the fact that the younger man had obviously chosen to interpret it that way. It had somehow been meant as a compliment, in the same way that Howard hoped it was supposed to be a compliment when Vince had called him 'generic' looking.

Vince abruptly frowned and shifted in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. It suddenly struck Howard how uncomfortable he must be on the wooden floor. He himself had had many a sleepless night during his time at the zoo, and had moaned about it bitterly the next morning. But he'd never heard Vince complain once, despite the fact that he was so much skinnier than Howard and had less fat to cushion him.

Sighing, Howard changed his position until the smaller man's head was resting in his lap. Well, he might as well make sure that at least _one_ of them got some rest tonight, and he certainly wouldn't be going back to sleep after that dream. He absently ran his hands through Vince's hair, mildly surprised at how soft it felt, considering the amount of products he used on it. Almost unconsciouslu, his mind drifted back to earlier that day, when he'd watched Gideon doing much the same thing. He'd been jealous, that was pretty much par for the course, but the strange thing was, he hadn't been jealous of Vince. No, _Gideon_ was the one he'd envied, resentful of the fact that she got to touch Vince's precious locks when _he_ wasn't allowed to. The whole situation had made him feel quite strange.

He yawned, a wave of tiredness suddenly washing over him, and he lay back down, still half on top of Vince. He fell back into a deep sleep, and this time, he didn't dream of anything at all.

- - - - - X - - - - -

When Vince awoke the next morning, it was to find himself in a bit of a predicament. His head was cushioned on Howard's chest, and the other man had one arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders and one of his legs hitched up around his stomach, effectively trapping him. As comfortable as the position was, it would be somewhat awkward if Howard woke up, as he would no doubt be mortified. And anyway, Vince was desperate for a piss. It was no use though. Howard was considerably bigger than he was, and, try as he might, there was no way to extricate himself from their current position without waking him. Only one thing for it, then.

"Howard?" He whispered. No reply. "Howard! Howard? Howard! Howard? HowardHowardHowardHowardHoward -"

Howard groaned, finally coming to life. "What do you want? I was asleep, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I need to go to the bathroom"

Howard looked at him in disbelief. "Oh, do you want me to hold your hand and wait outside the door for you?"

Vince rolled his eyes, the picture of impatience. "I can't move."

Howard blinked at him stupidly until he realized the intimate position they were locked in, a blush creeping across his cheeks. He released Vince as though he'd been scalded.

"Sorry."

Freed at last, Vince stood, grimacing as he ran a hand through his bed hair, and sloped off to their makeshift bathroom. When the deed was done, so to speak, he stood in front of the mirror, as he often did, and inspected his reflection.

Vince knew that he was good-looking. He knew that he had charm. He knew that various people of both sexes would fall all over themselves for a quick roll in the hay with him. He'd have to be stupid not to know those things. As it happened, he was _fairly_ stupid - he didn't deny it - but he possessed the kind of intuitive logic that Howard seemed to lack, which was probably why he was always the one that ended up rescuing his friend, and hardly ever the other way round.

Anyway, whilst Vince was usually pretty self-assured in that he looked fantastic and people liked him, something from yesterday seemed to have stuck with him, making him doubt himself for the first time in years. Namely, there was that remark Howard had made to him about having a 'visually noisy' face, whatever _that_ meant. He leaned in closer to the mirror's reflective surface, studying his own face intently, and for the first time he could remember, he asked himself the question: _'Just what was it that made Vince Noir_ _so special?'_ He'd always assumed that he just _was_, but now, thanks to Howard, he'd become paranoid. Above all else, he was a perfectionist, at least when it came to his image.

He hadn't even realized how close he'd gotten to the mirror until he felt his nose bump into the glass. It suddenly occurred to him that this was what someone would see as they leaned in to kiss him. Hmm. To tell the truth, it was a bit off-putting. From this distance, his features all kind of blurred into one, making him look a bit cross-eyed. And his nose was a fucking weird shape. But... it was still pretty fantastic. After all, no-one could look as good close-up as they did from a distance, could they? And it had to be better than kissing, say, Howard, for example. God, what would _that_ be like? He could just imagine it now - those small, shrimp eyes staring at him intently as that big moustache loomed towards him from above. He'd have to tilt his head back at such an angle that he'd need a permanent neck brace afterwards...

Vince was so engrossed in his daydreaming that he didn't even notice Howard hammering away at the door like a madman.

"For Chrissake, Vince, how long does it take?! That's it, I don't care if you're decent, I'm coming in. It's not like I've never seen what you've got before, anyway You've got no shame... Vince?" He stopped talking as he came crashing through the door, stunned into silence. Vince suddenly realized that his lips were in contact with the cool surface of the mirror, his eyes closed, and he leaped away from it like a startled trout.

"Vince... what are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Were you just getting off with your own reflection?"

"No." Vince mumbled, looking down at his boots. It was _almost_ true, anyway. He felt it was probably best not to mention at this point that while he _had_ been getting off with his reflection, he had been imagining it was Howard at the time.

"God, you _were_, weren't you?" Howard crowed triumphantly. "That explains why you don't have a girlfriend, anyway - you fancy yourself too much!"

"Shut your mouth." Vince snapped, feeling a blush creep over his cheeks.

Howard shook his head. "You really are a freak, you know that?"

Vince stared. The nerve of him! "You've got room to talk! What were you playing at, you cream-faced loon, charging in 'ere like an elephant on crack?!" His voice went all squeaky and high-pitched, as it often did when he was upset or agitated. "I didn't know _what_ to think!"

"At least I don't think I can talk to animals, like an anorexic Dr Doolittle in skinny jeans!"

"I _can_ talk to animals!" Vince protested, "And what are you talking about, calling me anorexic?"

"Well, I'm just saying. You _are_ a little on the thin side."

"So? This is my look! Heroin chic is _definitely_ in this season. And anyway, what about you? At least I don't moon about after some tart who's plainly not interested." He lowered his voice in what was presumably supposed to be an imitation of Howard. "'Oh, Mrs Gideon can't remember my name! Boo hoo. I think I'm just going to chuck myself in a lake, I'm so depressed."

"How dare you? You'll take that back right now, sir."

"What if I don't?"

"Then I'll come at you like a speeding freight train that's just veered slightly off-course."

Vince shook his head, smirking. "I bet you will. Come on, Howard. Maybe we'll just have to be freaks together."

The other man considered. "Yeah, okay. As long as we're just the normal kind of freaks, and not spliced together from different body parts."

"Don't worry about it. There's definitely no splicing on the agenda tonight."

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed. Personally, I didn't feel it was as good as the last one, so be sure to let me know what you thought.


	3. Till Death Do Us Part

**Author's Ramblings:** Hey, everyone! Sorry it took so long to get this up; I've just spent the last few days on a trip down in London, and when I got back, the internet wasn't working. But as soon as it was back up, I rushed straight onto my laptop to finish typing this and get it uploaded, that's how much I adore all you guys. Oh, and my apologies if this chapter isn't all that funny, I was in a bit of an odd mood when I wrote it. And thanks again to everyone who's reviewed so far.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_**'Bollo' episode recap:** Fossil approaches Howard with yet another unusual proposition - Bollo, the zoo's resident ape, is close to death, and Fossil wants Howard to dress up as a gorilla in his place so that Bollo's elderly sponsor will still make her payment. At first, Howard refuses, but Fossil goads him into it by telling him he can't act. Meanwhile, Vince stays at Bollo's side as he lies on his deathbed. Despite Howard having warned him not to do so, Vince has grown close to the animal and becomes increasingly more distressed as his condition worsens._

_After he upsets visitors with his less-than-traditional acting techniques, a black hooded figure carrying a scythe appears to Howard in the gorilla enclosure. At the same time, Bollo announces that he is feeling much better all of a sudden. Howard is mistakenly being taken to Monkey Hell by the Grim Reaper, who had believed that he was Bollo. When he reveals that he is in fact a man, he is taken back to the 'Death Cabs' headquarters, where he is able to watch his own shambolic funeral in a magic mirror. Fossil conducts the service wearing a Bishop's hat, whilst Vince, Naboo, and Bollo watch. Vince delivers a brief eulogy, becoming annoyed as Fossil keeps interrupting him, and then plays the 'Thomas the Tank Engine' theme tune. After getting a good laugh out of him, the Grim Reaper agrees to grant Howard a 'haunting' as a way of apologizing for the mix-up._

_Howard uses the time he's been given to visit Vince, who appears relieved to see him again. Howard explains that he's stuck in limbo, and needs Vince to get him out before he's taken to Monkey Hell. Vince is concerned at first, but he becomes distracted when Howard mentions that people lose their as they grow older, and goes to Naboo for advice. Naboo gives Vince some of his Miracle Wax for his hair care troubles, at which point Vince falls through a magic mirror and is transported to the Mirror World, where he meets Mr Susan. Mr Susan tells him that there are over seventeen mirrors in the Mirror World, and he must choose the right one or be stuck there for all eternity._

_Meanwhile, Howard has been taken to Monkey Hell and is about to be thrown into a pit of boiling lava by the Ape of Death when Vince appears to save the day. Unfortunately, things don't quite go to plan, as soon enough he too is hanging over the pit. In desperation, he taunts the Ape of Death about his unruly hair. He appears to hit a nerve, as the Ape of Death reveals that he has always had problems with his mane. Vince sorts in out in six minutes with the helps of Naboo's Miracle Wax, and, after expressing his delight in song format, the Ape of Death agrees to let the pair go home._

**'Till Death Do Us Part**

"How many, times, Vince - don't _ever_ touch me."

"Sorry." Vince mumbled in apology, releasing Howard's arm. In truth, he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop himself from touching the other man just to reassure himself that he was _back_, he was _alive_ and he was _really here_. Those hours when he'd thought Howard was dead had seemed like the longest, most painful hours he'd ever had to endure in his life. It was as if his entire world had been shattered. He'd put on a brave face in front of the others, of course, but as soon as he'd found a moment to himself, he'd retired to their little hut and collapsed onto the sofa, sobbing hysterically, muffling the sounds in a pillow as his entire being was wracked with grief. He'd found himself digging out his friend's spare uniform and sitting for about an hour with it pressed to his face, just breathing in the familiar, comforting smell that was Howard.

So if he, say, forgot about Howard's strict no-touching rule occasionally, he couldn't _really_ be blamed, could he? Unfortunately, Howard didn't see it that way. For some reason, he was in one of his worst moods... and he was taking it all out on Vince.

"Come on, Howard." Vince sighed, after he'd been snapped at for about the fifth time in as many minutes. "What's up? You're all tense and angry."

Howard stared at him in disbelief. " 'What's up'? Vince, I've just come back from the dead."

"Yeah, but at least you _did_ come back. That's more than most people can say."

"I suppose..." Howard agreed somewhat reluctantly.

"So what's the problem, then?" Vince asked in frustration.

"The _problem_ is I'm just not sure that anyone would miss me if I actually _did_ die for real."

"Don't say that." Vince said quietly, an intensity in his voice that would have been surprising, had Howard not missed it completely. Unfortunately, he was too wrapped up in himself to notice.

"Why not? It's true, isn't it? That funeral was an embarrassment."

"You saw that?" Vince squeaked, two pink spots of colour appearing in the hollows of his cheeks.

"Oh, yes. The service was conducted by an overweight borderline _retard_ in a bishop's hat, and the only people in attendance were a shaman-stroke-kiosk vendor and an ape who doesn't even like me."

"I was there." Vince reminded him, staring determinedly at the floor.

"Oh, well, that makes _all_ the difference, doesn't it?" Howard bit back, an ugly sneer painted across his face. "I should be turning cartwheels in my _grave_ over the fact that Vince Noir, rock and roll star, found a spare ten minutes out of his busy schedule to attend my _funeral_." He laughed harshly. "You really are full of it, you know that? You broke my jazz records not two hours after I was dead - for God's sake, you played 'Thomas the Tank Engine' at my funeral, and here you are asking for _approval_ -?"

"Stop it!" Vince shouted, looking upset. "I _tried_, okay? I know it wasn't perfect, but I _tried_. I did try. And I'm not asking for your approval, or trying to seem important. I just wanted you to know that I care. Maybe that's not much, but it should be _something_. Or am I not good enough for you now?"

Howard stared at him, taken aback. He honestly couldn't understand what Vince was making such a big deal out of. "But why -?"

"Because you were _dead_, Howard! Okay? You were _dead,_ and I - I didn't know what to do without you!" Vince choked up as he struggled to get the words out, and Howard was horrified to see that he now had twin pairs of tears rolling down his cheeks. He sank down to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms as his thin body shook.

Howard watched awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He knew that he should probably offer some kind of comfort, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't stand the thought of being touched, it made him feel physically ill. True, he had held Vince the other night, but that had been different. Vince had been asleep, unaware of the physical attention Howard was paying him.

On the other hand, it was almost more than he could bear to watch the younger man trying to console himself, arms wrapped around his chest in a pathetic kind of self-hug. It was heartbreaking, and Howard felt both a little guilty and a little flattered knowing it was his own death that had caused so much pain. Maybe he _did_ matter to _someone_, after all.

He tentatively approached Vince and sat down heavily on the floor next to him. The other man didn't even look up. Howard didn't think he even _noticed_. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and gingerly placed his arm around Vince's shoulders, waiting for the nauseating feeling that human contact normally brought to arrive. Only it never did. Instead, he felt oddly liberated and... _free_.

Vince abruptly latched onto him like a needy child, desperately clinging to him and burying his head in the older man's neck, breathing him in and mumbling incoherently under his breath. Howard was far too taken aback by this to even _think_ about reciprocating, and just sat there like a stiff, unmoving rock. It was only when he felt Vince's tears beginning to soak into his collar that he began to awkwardly rub his friend's back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"Shh. It'll be okay." He said, somewhat lamely. "Please don't cry." He begged. He didn't know what to do in this kind of situation.

"Don't die again, Howard." Vince pleaded, his breath hot against Howard's neck. "I don't know what to do without you. I'm so - I don't _have_ anyone else. You can't die again, you can't leave me again!" His voice was rising with hysteria so that, by the end of the last sentence, Howard would have sworn that half the animals in the zoo had woken up from the sheer volume of it.

"I'll, um, I'll try my best..." Howard said hesitantly, wanting to console Vince and yet at the same time not wanting to lie to him. It was easy to forget how vulnerable the other man was at times. He was an orphan, after all, raised in the forest by his adoptive father. Howard didn't know what had happened to Vince's real parent's - he never talked about them - but it was something he wondered about whenever he noticed that Vince's smile didn't _quite_ reach his eyes, or that the bounce in his step seemed a little too forced. Vince was a gifted actor of course, but he sometimes forgot that Howard knew him inside and out, maybe even better than he knew himself.

"Promise me!" He looked up now, his eyes wild. "You have to _promise_, Howard. Do you promise?"

"Okay, okay. I promise." Well, maybe it was worth a little white lie if it was what it took to calm Vince down. In truth, Howard was more than a little scared to see his friend in such a state. Vince was normally the cool, calm-headed one in their little double act. More often than not, that was more down to sheer stupidity than anything else, but still... he was normally completely unflappable, nothing ever got to him. To see him lose it so completely was disturbing, to say the least.

Vince was still making small snuffling, whimpering noises against Howard's neck, but the shaking of his body had lessened considerably as his sobs diminished. Howard realized that his hand had somehow found its way into the other man's dishevelled hair, gently stroking through the coiffured strands. After a while, Vince eventually pulled away, giving a shaky, embarrassed smile.

"I'm sorry. Look at me, weepin' all over you. You've probably got more important stuff than this to be getting on with."

Howard frowned. "You don't need to apologize, Vince. You've had more than a few shocks today."

"I know, it's just - well, I'm supposed to be cheerful and happy all the time, aren't I? I'm the Sunshine Kid, I'm not meant to think about things or get sad, 'cause if I do, I won't be so interesting, will I? And the people won't like me so much. No one wants to hang around with some loser who's depressed all the time. It's not good for the image, you know?"

Howard stared at him, dumbfounded. He knew that Vince had some pretty twisted logic at times, but even by _his_ standards, that was a screwed-up way of thinking. "For God's sake, Vince, what is it with you? Why do you feel the need to put on this mask all the time, pretend that you're just some shallow, air-headed ponce when there's actually so much more to you than that? You don't have to _pretend_ to be happy all the time, you know. People won't think anything less of you for actually showing some emotion every now and then."

"Maybe _you_ won't." Vince sniffed, "But that's different, innit? If any of my other friends saw me like this, they'd ditch me like yesterday's fashions."

"If that's the case, maybe they're not really your friends." Howard pointed out.

"Yeah, I suppose." Vince agreed after some deliberation. "And that's why I need you around." He added solemnly, finally making eye contact. "I mean it, Howard. Maybe not _everyone_ around here appreciates you, but I do. I appreciate you a lot."

The older man squirmed slightly at the unexpected praise. "Thanks. And, um, thanks for coming to rescue me earlier. I suppose I should have mentioned that before."

Vince gave the mega-watt grin that Howard longed to see every day, the one that stretched from ear to ear and lit up the whole of his face. "Aw, it was nothing. That's what friends are for, isn't it? Travelling to Monkey Hell and tackling some serious hair care issues was a pretty fair exchange for your soul, I'd say."

"Too true." Howard agreed, nodding gravely like he had the first clue what Vince was on about. "Don't forget, we're pioneers, sir. What's a little thing like death to slow us down?"

* * *

**A/N: **Go on... press the button... you know you want to...


	4. Meltdown

**Author's Ramblings:** I'm sorry that it's taken me such a long time to update this, I just got kinda distracted by my season 3 DVD and all the other wonderful stories out there. This is slightly longer than all the others, and it's a bit different because most of it takes place kind of in the middle of the episode, in between Vince and Howard escaping Black Frost and getting back to the Zooniverse. The last scene, however, is set a few days after the ending.

Anyway, this is one of my favourite episodes, so I hope I've done it justice.

Um... rampant fluff. Lots of it. You have been warned.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_**'Tundra'** **episode recap:** When Dixon Bainbridge returns to the zoo with tales from his recent Arctic exploration, Howard is less than impressed. He feels that his talents as a zookeeper are being underestimated and that, given the chance, he could do all of the things that Bainbridge does - and do them better. The impressionable Vince, however, appears quite captivated by Bainbridge, and seems perfectly happy with his job, believing Howard to be deluded for thinking he is capable of more. Bainbridge delivers a lecture, complete with slideshows, about his adventures, claiming that he had intended to follow in the footsteps of famous explorer Biggy Shackleton and find the legendary Egg of Mantumbi, a sapphire as big as a schoolboy's head._

_After hearing this, Howard becomes even more dissatisfied, saying that if_ he _went to find the Egg, he wouldn't come back empty-handed. Vince is doubtful at first, but after seeing how badly his friend wants to achieve his goal, he persuades Howard that they should go on an adventure of their own. And so, after a quick phone call to Gary Numan, the duo find themselves in the Arctic Tundra._

_Howard quickly rises to the role of the intrepid explorer, recording the details of their quest on his Dictaphone. Vince, by comparison, appears to be treating the experience as a holiday, throwing snow around dressed in his usual impractical attire. Howard scolds him for not taking their situation seriously, and the pair launch into a rap about the dangers of the Tundra._

_Back at the zoo, Bainbridge bribes Naboo into revealing the whereabouts of the two errant keepers. When the shaman informs him that they have gone in search of the Egg of Mantumbi, Bainbridge appears furious and stalks off, presumably to try and get to the Egg first. Meanwhile, Vince becomes frustrated at being treated like Howard's slave when he is forced to dig a hole in the ice after putting the tent up. Howard is dismissive of him, until he uncovers the remains of Biggy Shackleton and his last words, frozen in time by the hideous ice demon Black Frost. The pair defrost the last words in an attempt to find the whereabouts of the Egg, but just as they get to the final one, Vince's phone goes off, and the remains of the sentence are lost forever._

_In a fit of rage, Howard kicks Vince out of the tent, telling him that he's on night-watch and warning him not to fall asleep. When Howard awakes in the morning to find Vince gone and only his woolly hat and a set of paw-prints in his place, he fears the worst - that Vince has been taken and killed by a polar bear. With the realization that he's now alone and responsible for the 'death' of his best friend, he begins to lose his mind - all while Vince, perfectly healthy, has fun with his new furry friend._

_Howard is taken captive by a race of parka people, who intend to let him be killed by Black Frost after learning that he seeks the Egg. Vince turns up just in time to save him, but Howard can't resist and urges Vince to steal the Egg on the way out. Soon enough, they are both tied to a pole, awaiting their execution. In the heat of the moment, Howard tells Vince that he loves him. Vince's initial response is too laugh, until Howard acts hurt and he admits to feeling the same. Howard doesn't believe him, but Bainbridge interrupts by showing up and stealing the Egg, leaving Howard and Vince to die. He doesn't get very far, however, as Black Frost appears and freezes him solid. He then goes to turn his icy wrath on Vince and Howard, but Vince's polar bear friend returns and knocks him out before he can do so._

_A series of newspaper headlines proclaim that Howard and Vince take the Egg back, but are shamed when it turns out to be a fake. Bainbridge returns with the real Egg, and when we next see our heroes, they are back at the zoo, still bickering but alive and well._

**Meltdown**

"Howard...?"

"What?"

"It's so cold..."

Howard rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to bash his head against something. Or maybe he'd just have to bash Vince's head instead. That could work. "Of course it's cold, we're in the Arctic, Vince. What did you expect, mostly dry with sunny spells? It's an ice desert; it's literally a desert made of ice. Now stop moaning and start moving. If only we could find this tent..."

That was the trouble, really - it was unbelievably difficult to judge where they were. They'd tried retracing their steps, but most of their footprints had been covered up by a layer of fresh snow. And it wasn't exactly as if there were any landmarks to go by. To make matters even worse, they couldn't even ring Gary and hitch a lift on his plane, as the battery in Vince's phone had died. To cut a long story short, Howard was not in the best of moods - and Vince's constant whining wasn't helping any.

He heard a soft thud from behind him and turned to see Vince lying face-down in the snow. Howard sighed impatiently. He really didn't have time for this. Why couldn't he have someone _normal_ for a sidekick?

"You're being a little melodramatic, don't you think?"

There was no reply.

"Come on, Vince, get up. Stop mucking about."

Silence.

"Vince?"

Sensing that something might actually be wrong, Howard dropped to his knees beside his friend and rolled the smaller man over onto his back. It didn't look good. Vince's skin was even paler than usual, so pale it was almost translucent. The only colour in his face was in his lips, which had turned a worrying shade of purple-blue. His chest was barely moving, and his breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. His eyes were at half-mast, which meant that he was at least conscious - but just barely, by the looks of things.

Howard felt a little bit sick. He had done this. He had treated his friend like - how had Vince described it again? - a pit pony, forcing him to do all the work whilst he stood around pretending to be important, all cosy and warm in his big fluffy mink. What did Vince have to protect him against the cold? His outfit was hardly practical, and there was barely an inch of fat on his skinny little body. It seemed as though all of the hours spent exposed to the extreme conditions of the Tundra had finally caught up to him, and now he was paying the price. The older man felt an extra stab of guilt when he remembered kicking Vince out of the tent and forcing him to sleep all night outside in the bitter cold. He had no idea how long Vince had sat there before that polar bear turned up.

"Vince...? Vince!" Howard shook his shoulder gently, trying to rouse him from his half-conscious state. "Vince, come on. Wake up!"

Vince mumbled and shifted. "Mmm... why? I wanna sleep. I'm so tired, Howard."

Howard shook him more roughly this time, feeling panic beginning to set in. In desperation, he drew back his hand and delivered a stinging slap to Vince's face. Sheer adrenaline meant that it turned out a little harder than he'd intended, and he felt even worse when he heard the shocked gasp it elicited, but it did the trick, anyway. A spark of awareness was lit in Vince's eyes, and he focused on Howard with a mixture of confusion, pain, and annoyance.

"Ow!" He complained, holding his hand up to his stinging cheekbone. "What did ya do that for, you spaz?!"

"Oh, thank God." Howard sighed, unable to keep the relief from creeping into his voice. "Listen, Vince, you need to stay awake, okay?"

Vince's brow scrunched with confusion as he struggled into a sitting position. "Why?"

"Because..." For a second, Howard was tempted to lie to him, but he found that he couldn't, not with those big blue eyes staring up at him so trustingly. "Because if you fall asleep... you might not wake up again."

Vince swallowed, his eyes getting even wider, if that were possible, and nodded bravely. He shivered violently, and much as it pained him to do so, Howard removed his coat and draped it around the younger man's shoulders. Vince, however, was having none of it, and shrugged the garment off defiantly with a disgusted expression on his face.

"Ugh, I'm not wearin' that! It's made of minks! It used to be alive and everythin'!"

Howard looked at him, dumbfounded. "Vince, how could a man who's so obsessed with fashion _possibly_ have a problem wearing a fur coat?"

Vince actually looked quite affronted. "I'm a zookeeper, aren't I? I've got me morals, unlike some people. I talk to animals, there's no way I'm gonna walk around in the skin of someone I might have been 'avin a conversation with the other day!"

"Come on, you're being ridiculous. How many cows do you think have died to make all those stupid boots you love so much?"

"Well, that's different, innit? They're just cows. The mink's an endangered species, you know."

"You just made that up now."

"I did not!"

"Vince, please, just wear the damned coat!" Howard all but begged. The minks are already dead. I don't want you ending up the same way!"

Vince didn't have anything to say to that, so instead he just lowered his gaze and looked down at the ice. After a moment, Howard went to place the coat around his shoulders again. This time, it stayed there.

When they eventually found the tent again, Vince had become a dead weight, his arm hanging around Howard's shoulders as the bigger man supported him, his feet dragging across the ice in those ridiculous new boots he'd lifted from the Black Frost. Howard practically had to drag him into the tent, and when he got to his sleeping bag, he just kind of collapsed onto it pathetically.

"I'll, um... I'll get the stove going, shall I?" Howard hedged awkwardly, and set about making the tea. Five minutes later, he was swallowing down the warm liquid contentedly, while Vince just looked at it, using its heat to warm his hands but not really tempted to actually _drink_ any of it. He looked so small and vulnerable somehow, bundled up in his sleeping bag and Howard's ridiculously oversized coat, wide glassy eyes looking out over the rim of the mug.

Howard suddenly felt an unexpected wave of affection for the other man. Even when things had seemed at their most desperate today, even when he was all set to lay down and die in the snow, Vince had pulled through for him. When it came down to it, Vince always did. It didn't matter that he was shallow, vain and self-obsessed, or that he wasn't quite as smart as most and could barely even spell his own name. At the end of the day, he had never let Howard down - at least, not when it really mattered, anyway.

Whilst Howard was pondering this, Vince had set down his mug and lain down in his sleeping bag, already beginning to drift off.

"Howard? Can I sleep now?"

Howard looked over at him. He was still far too pale and his lips still had that disturbing purplish hue to them. Gently, he laid a hand against Vince's cheek. His skin was like ice to the touch, smooth and frozen like marble. In fact, he found himself double-checking that Vince was breathing just to reassure himself that he was alive.

"You're still too cold." He remarked, gently rubbing the chilled flesh in an effort to warm it up.

"I know..." Vince gave a huge yawn, "But I'm so..." His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out before he could even finish the sentence. Howard was tempted to wake him up, but in the end, he simply didn't have the heart. Instead he hauled his own sleeping bag over to Vince's and zipped them together, so it was a kind of double bed arrangement, in sleeping bag terms. He slid in next to Vince and tentatively pulled the other man close, being careful not to disturb him.

He had heard somewhere - possibly the Global Explorer - that sharing body heat was the best thing to do in these kinds of situations. He told himself that that was the only motivation behind his actions - a desperate need to keep Vince warm and, subsequently, alive.

Yet lying here with Vince in his arms, he felt oddly contented. He knew that that was wrong - he shouldn't feel content at all. They were trapped in the Arctic with no means of getting home, the wind was howling outside and slicing through the flimsy canvas walls of their little tent, and it was looking more and more likely that Vince could die on him at any second. But none of that really seemed to register at the moment. As long as he could feel Vince's soft hair pressed against his cheek, he could believe that everything would eventually turn out okay.

It would have to.

- - - - - X - - - - -

"Hey, Moon! Get your fat, ginormous ass outta bed and get out here! We got the whirlybird waiting, do you have any idea how much it costs to run these things? If you don't hurry it up a little, we'll probably run out of fuel and crash halfway across the Indian Ocean!"

Howard groaned as bright sunshine streamed through his eyelids and a loud, obnoxious voice assaulted his eardrums. On Howard Moon's List Of The Worst Possible Ways To Be Woken Up, having Fossil screaming into his lughole definitely came in at number one. He blinked suddenly in confusion. Weren't they still in the Arctic? What was Fossil doing here, then? Nothing made sense. He became aware of another body pressed up against his and realized that he was still wrapped around Vince like an old curtain. This was becoming something of a habit as of late. Should he be worried?

"Honestly, Fossil, I don't see the point of rescuing these two idiots." A second, more irritating voice chipped in. Howard groaned again. Bainbridge? Wasn't he supposed to be dead? They just couldn't seem to get rid of this guy, could they?

"I'm sorry, Sweetcheeks," Fossil was saying, "But they're my best zookeepers. Moon knows how to do stuff, and Vincey talks to the furry people. It's been chaos with them gone. I had to get a coupl'a shepherds to replace them, but it didn't really work out that well. We had the big-teeth cat-men eating those small squeaky guys, and the stripy horses just had one wild party all night with the long-necked tree people."

"You really are the most pathetic little man I've ever met, did you know that?" Bainbridge announced in his snotty, superior tone. "What the _hell_ is taking them so long? I'm going to go in there and sort this out myself."

There was the sound of zips being... _unzipped_, and then a large, moustachioed head appeared through the tent-flap.

"Moon!" Bainbridge barked. "You can canoodle with your interesting-looking girlfriend some other time. Get your arse out here in two minutes, or the helicopter leaves without you."

Howard sighed. "All right, just give us a minute."

Bainbridge's moustache twitched. "You disgust me, Moon." He said concersationally. "People like you ought to be ground down and fed to the wolves." With that, he disappeared from view.

Trying and failing to disentangle himself from Vince, Howard accidentally elbowed the other man in the shoulder, thus effectively waking him up.

"Howard?" Vince slurred drowsily. "Whas 'appening?"

"We're going home."

- - - - - X - - - - -

"Hey, thanks for getting me these Hula Hoops at last, Howard!" Vince grinned, sitting down beside his friend on the bench. "They're genius! Took you long enough, mind."

"Don't worry about it, little man. It's the least I could do." Howard hesitated slightly. "So, how are you now? After everything that happened out there in the Arctic?"

Vince frowned, concentrating harder than he was used to. "I dunno, I don't really remember it all that much. I remember that you were there, and... something about a mink? And I think you were scared, you kept telling me not to fall asleep. The rest of it's just all kind of jumbled up."

Howard decided not to tell him how close he had come to dying. That was something that Vince, made of sunshine and rainbows, didn't need to know.

"Howard?" Vince began, after a long pause.

"Yeah?"

"You know, after you kicked me out of the tent and I went off with that polar bear, I was worried about you."

"You were?"

"Yeah. I mean, obviously I was annoyed that you ditched me, but then I thought about you all alone out there in the cold. I was worried that, without me there bein' all logical and whatnot, you'd do something stupid."

"Well, thank you very much, sir." Howard didn't know whether to be flattered that Vince had actually cared enough to worry, or insulted that he'd just been called stupid. Or concerned that Vince would describe himself as 'logical'.

Vince sighed. "Come on, Howard, you know I didn't mean it like that. It's just... we gotta stick together, don't we?"

Howard said nothing.

"... Howard...?" Vince said again after an even longer pause.

"What _this_ time?"

"Back there in the Arctic... when you said that you loved me... what did you mean by that?"

Ah, yes. Howard had managed to forget about that little snag up until now. He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I just meant that... you know... you're my best mate, aren't you? And we've had some good times together, and I thought we were going to die, so... I just wanted to let you know. That." He finished lamely.

For a second, he thought he saw a flash of disappointment in Vince's eyes, but then it was gone, replaced by his usual cheery grin.

"That's good. You had me worried. For a few seconds there, I thought you were goin' gay on me. Imagine that!" Laughing good-naturedly, he got up off the bench and began walking away. "Come on! We gotta go sort out the ocelots, or Fossil's gonna be on our cases like a badger with heat rash again!"

Shaking his head in fond exasperation and bearing a slightly grudging half-smile, Howard went to follow him, Vince's words from only a few moments ago echoing around inside his mind.

_"We gotta stick together, don't we?"_

Had there ever been any other option?

* * *

**A/N: **Well, I've gotta go now, because it's nearly quarter past one and I've got to be up early in the morning. Sigh... Hope you liked, anyway. Remember, reviews make my day/week/month/year (delete as appropriate...)


	5. Heroes

**Author's Ramblings: **Oh dear lord. Threads is back with a vengeance. I'm sorry (again) that it's taken so long to update this, but I've really had a lot on my plate lately, what with coursework and everything. I'm also extremely tired, as I was at a fancy dress party all last night. I ended up going as a cross between Vince and one of the electro girls, but I'm not sure that anyone else 'got' it, as my friends aren't really big Boosh fans. 'Twas fun, though.

Anyway, enough about me. I'm sorry that there isn't much slashy content in this chapter, but for some reason, I found it really hard to write. Not sure why.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_**'Jungle' episode recap:** Howard has become dissatisfied with the running of the zoo, and pines for the days when his old mentor Tommy Nookah was in charge. He is in denial of the fact that Tommy is most probably dead, even thoug he has been missing for ten years, claiming that his body was never found. Vince, meanwhile, is completely uninterested, having become engrossed in his latest fashion obsession, the mod style of the early 1960s. He labels himself 'King of the Mods', and is determined to take the title of Uber-mod from the reigning champion, who has hair over a metre tall. Howard tells him that he must question the nature of reality, something which Tommy taught him years before._

_Bainbridge announces that the zoo is being closed down for a road to be built in its place, and that all of its employees are fired. A furious Howard goes to confront Fossil, but finds that there is little he can do._

_Whilst sweeping up leaves outside the Jungle Room, Naboo drops an interesting-looking necklace on the floor for Vince to find. Vince picks it up and puts it in his pocket, clearly intrigued. Later, Howard and Vince sit on the bench, reminiscing about old times. Howard presents Vince with a framed photograph of himself to remember him by. Vince gives Howard the necklace when asked for a present in return, not having anything else. Howard recognizes the necklace as being Tommy's, and when he asks Vince where he found it, he realizes that Tommy must be alive and well in the Jungle Room._

_The duo venture into the Jungle Room under cover of night, with Vince dressed from head-to-toe in mod attire. After seven minutes, they become lost, and Vince accidentally eats the sweets that Howard had been leaving for them to find their way back. Vince tries to persuade Howard to go back, but he refuses to leave until he has found his hero. Vince appears jealous and taunts Howard about his relationship with Tommy, choosing to read more into it. Howard becomes so irritated that he leaves Vince behind. Meanwhile, the wolves are closing in..._

_Acting on Bainbridge's orders, Fossil locks the Jungle Room and eats the key, trapping Vince and Howard inside. Whilst Vince is still walking through the jungle alone, he encounters Rudi Van DiSarnio, a wise jazz-fusion guitarist mounted atop a small section of Woodstock. He tells Vince that Howard is deep within the heart of the jungle, and gives him a pipe that will alert him should he run into trouble._

_Howard is reunited with Tommy - now made entirely from cheese - but soon he must kill his hero in order to save the zoo. Vince and Howard are aided in their escape by some friendly Modwolves, and by feeding Tommy's cheesy remains to Bainbridge, they manage to prevent the sale of the zoo from going through._

**Heroes**

"Howard?"

The man in question glanced up from the book he was reading to glare at his apprentice-stroke-best-friend-stroke-constant-thorn-in-the-side, who was currently perched on the edge of the sofa eating a satsuma.

"What?"

"What _really_ went on between you and Tommy?"

Howard groaned in frustration, dropping his head into his hands in despair. _Not this again. _Vince would just _not_ let the matter drop, would he? He just refused to leave it alone.

"Nothing 'went on'. Okay? We just had a very professional relationship, a deep, spiritual relationship, if you will. That's all there was to it, sir. Yes, some people implied that we got too close at one point, but those people were simple, narrow-minded. They just couldn't wrap their tiny minds around something so intense. In some ways, I... I pity them."

Vince snorted, less than impressed with Howard's little speech. "As if! I was there, you moron. I saw exactly what went on."

"And what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that you were looking at Dutch Edam back there like he was Mrs Gideon combined with Santa Claus. And a chocolate brownie thrown in for good measure."

Howard gave him his worst look. "How dare you? You take that back."

"No way! I can read people, Howard. I've got a gift!"

"That's one way of putting it." The older man muttered, flicking the page in his book disinterestedly.

"And the air in that jungle was so thick with sexual tension, you could have cut it with a knife!" Vince continued obliviously.

With an almighty sigh, Howard put his book down, resigning himself to fact that he was going to be having this conversation whether he liked it or not. "You know, believe it or not, Vince, not everything is to do with sex. It _is_ possible to have a comfortable, platonic relationship with someone without wanting to jump into bed with them the first chance you get. Just because _you_ feel the need to bugger anything that moves, doesn't mean we all do."

For a second, an expression that might have been hurt flashed across Vince's face, but it was quickly covered up with a smug grin. "I think that you'll find it's the other way round. People all but throw themselves at me the minute I walk out the front door. It'd be impolite to turn them down."

Howard shook his head. Vince really did speak the biggest lot of bollocks he'd ever come across in his life. He was impossible when he got like this. He went back to his book, becoming distracted once more when he felt Vince's eyes upon him, watching him intently. After five minutes of trying - and failing - to ignore this, he gave on his book entirely and turned to face the other man again.

"What?"

Vince chewed on his lower lip for a second, eyes darting away guiltily. "I really don't understand you at all sometimes, Howard."

"How do you mean?"

Vince sighed, suddenly finding his boots incredibly fascinating. "Why was Tommy so important to you? He was just a cheese-headed lunatic, as far as I could tell, but you wouldn't hear a bad word against him. I was just wondering why."

Howard stared at him. "Have you not listened to _anything_ I've been telling you? He was my hero, okay? That man taught me everything I know. Yes, he might have been ninety-five percent dairy product, that is true, but I looked up to him, I admired him. He protected me, showed me the ropes, taught me how to be a real zookeeper. He was the only person I would have trusted to look after this place; you have to earn that kind of trust, Vince..."

At this point, Vince tuned out, Howard's voice droning into the background as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He finally understood what his friend saw in Tommy - because it was exactly the same thing that he himself saw in Howard. A mentor, a friend, someone to rely on. Someone whom he could trust implicitly, someone who would offer him guidance and point him in the right direction when he was lost. Someone who, yes, could be a bit of an idiot at times, but whom Vince felt a fierce loyalty towards and would go to the ends of the earth to protect. Maybe he didn't hero-worship Howard _quite_ as much as Howard did Tommy, but the principle was still the same.

He opened his mouth, feeling the need to say something, when Fossil's hideously amplified voice cut through the air with its usual bad timing, making him forget his current train of thought as the whine from the static assaulted his eardrums.

_"Could all staff please SHIFT YOUR ASSES over to the reptile house for a special meeting with Dixon Bainbridge? Thank you!"_

There was a short, blessed pause before the loudspeaker clicked back on again.

_"And that means YOU, Howard Moon and Vince Noir, unless you want to be on millet duty for the rest of the year! Don't make me ask again... MOVE IT, morons!"_

- - - - - X - - - - -

The scene in the reptile house was exactly as Howard had pictured it - Bainbridge stood at the front of the room with Fossil stood by his side, gazing at him adoringly, whilst the rest of the staff were crowded around ready to listen. Naboo was there, looking as indifferent as usual, whilst Mrs Gideon stood off to the side, looking a little put out at her territory being taken over by the entire faculty of the zoo. Howard's heart did its usual flip when he caught sight of her as he and Vince slunk quietly into the back, hoping nobody would notice them.

"As you may be aware," Bainbridge was saying, "The sale of the zoo is no longer going forwards, due to... _unforeseen circumstances_." Here he paused slightly to shoot a dark glance in the direction of Howard and Vince.

"However," He continued, "This only means that I expect even _more_ dedication and effort from all of the staff. For the foreseeable future, I want all of you slackers on sixteen-hour shifts, and if I catch anyone - _anyone_ - not pulling their weight, they will be _fired!_ Immediately."

There was a general murmur of dissent amongst the staff, clearly unhappy at this new treatment. Bainbridge looked up at them, as if only just remembering that they were there. He dismissed them idly with a wave of his hand. "That will be all. Get lost, all of you."

Howard had made it halfway to the door when his name was called and his heart abruptly sank down to the floor.

"Moon. Not you." Bainbridge beckoned him with a rather unpleasant look on his face. Howard swallowed hard and stared longingly at the door, seeing that Vince and the others had already gone through it.

"Shut the door." Bainbridge ordered. Resigned to his fate, Howard did as asked, sitting down in one of the plastic chairs that had recently been vacated. Bainbridge sat opposite, giving him an assessing look. After this had gone on for a while, the explorer offered Howard a cup of something, seemingly produced from nowhere.

"Tea?"

_Oh God,_ Howard thought, _He's trying to poison me. He thinks I've finally gone too far by stopping the sale of the zoo, and he's trying to off me worth some dodgy Earl Grey. Such is the way of the hero_. Outwardly, of course, he gave no indication of these thoughts, shaking his head firmly and leaning as far back as possible.

"Suit yourself." Bainbridge smirked, taking a hearty swig from the mug himself. Howard cursed himself as he realized the intimidation techniques his boss had been employing. Bainbridge suddenly leaned over and picked some papers up off the floor.

"Here, Moon," He said, leafing through them disinterestedly, "I've been doing some light reading recently. Found a file here that might interest you."

He passed the aforementioned file to Howard with the air of one about to drop a very large bombshell. Intrigued despite himself, Howard flipped open the front cover - and his blood ran cold. Vince's file. This was Vince's file. A small picture of his assistant was stapled to the first page, smiling coyly at the camera, blue eyes peeping out from beneath an artfully dishevelled fringe. Vince was the only person Howard knew who could actually manage to look good in those photos. Various details of Vince's life were typed out beside the snapshot;

_Surname: NOIR_

_Other names: VINCENT_

_D.O.B: 1/05/82_

The list went on, but there was nothing particularly interesting there, nor was there anything Howard didn't already know. So what did Bainbridge want with the file? This had bad news written all over it.

"A pretty boy, isn't he?" Bainbridge asked conversationally, as though he were discussing the weather. "Pretty, but stupid. Still, I'm sure I can find a purpose for him."

Howard narrowed his already too-small eyes, not liking what he was hearing in the slightest. "I'm not quite sure what you mean." He said evenly, trying to disguise the fact he was practically _wetting_ himself, he was so genuinely terrified.

Bainbridge leaned towards him, face twisted with hatred, dropping all pretences of friendliness. "What I _mean_, Moon, is that you've pushed it too far this time. I've had enough of your constant interfering, your utter incompetence, and above all, that irritating, air-headed accomplice of yours. So let me spell it our for you now: you keep yourself in line - and make sure your little _bitch_ does the same - or I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget."

The older man sat back in his chair again, looking immensely satisfied with himself. Howard stared at him. He had always known that Bainbridge was twisted, but surely he wouldn't go as far as what he was implying... would he?

"You can go now." Bainbridge dismissed him. "Oh, and Moon?" Howard turned around just as he reached the door for the second time.

"This is your last chance. We won't be repeating this conversation, I can assure you. Good day."

Instead of going straight back to the cabin, Howard went for a brisk walk around the zoo, not wanting to face Vince's incessant chirping just yet. His heart was still pounding rapidly in his chest from the confrontation he'd just had. It seemed that Bainbridge had finally figured out that the quickest and easiest way to get to him was through Vince. Unfortunately, what Bainbridge _didn't_ know was that he could control Vince just as easily as he could a herd of rampaging wildebeest. _He_ would be able to toe the line from now on, if that was what he had to do, but getting Vince to do the same would be downright impossible. At the same time though, there was no way in hell that he could let Bainbridge hurt the younger man.

Either way, Howard had the feeling that something big was on the way. A change was on the horizon. And he wasn't going to like that change one bit.

* * *

**A/N: **Is that the beginnings of an actual plot I sense emerging there? Mayhaps it is... only time will tell. In the meantime, all reviews are much appreciated. Believe me.


	6. Stupid

**Author's Ramblings: **Yes, I'm back! Sorry I've been inactive for so long, my internet went down a few weeks ago and I only just got it back up. Sigh... Anyway, here's another chapter for your enjoyment; it's another angsty one, and not one of my best, I'm afraid, but hopefully it'll be okay. Enjoy.

- - - - - X - - - - -

'_**Charlie' episode recap: **__Irritated by Vince's perpetual happiness, Howard announces his slightly far-fetched plans to leave the zoo and become a writer. Vince then reveals that he is already a 'published' novelist, having written a series of books that follow the adventures of 'Charlie', a being made entirely of old bubblegum. Howard is less than impressed, belittling Vince's efforts and labelling his stories 'the scribblings of a retard'. Vince accuses Howard of being scared of Charlie, to which Howard takes offence._

_Fossil, meanwhile, reveals to Howard his latest money-making scheme; forcing the pandas to mate, creating baby pandas. When Howard points out that pandas are notoriously difficult to breed, Fossil tells him to dress up as a male panda and seduce the female in order to make the real male jealous. Howard refuses, and instead persuades Vince to do it, reassuring his friend that he will be on guard outside the door. He becomes distracted when he spots Mrs Gideon nearby, however, and runs off to follow her. By the time he remembers Vince, the other man has become infatuated with the female panda and is reluctant to leave._

_Back at the cabin, Howard attempts to follow through with his new ambition by typing his novel. He is easily distracted, however and Vince appears to be doing his best to irritate him. Howard only manages to write a single sentence, but is undeterred and plans to send it to the famous publisher Hamilton Cork, who can supposedly tell whether he wants to publish a book from just a sentence. Vince is reluctant when Howard asks him to read the sentence, claiming that the other man can't take criticism. Howard finally persuades him, and he is surprisingly complimentary. When he goes to offer some constructive criticism, however, he is chased out of the cabin._

_Howard dreams that Hamilton Cork comes to visit the zoo, wanting to publish his sentence. When he awakes, he is greeted with a similar scene - except it is Vince's 'Charlie' books the publisher is interested in. Howard goes to visit Naboo for therapy, and the shaman informs him that he is jealous of Vince. He gives Howard a picture of some kittens to calm him down whenever he feels stressed. Unfortunately, it proves too much when Vince reveals that he has been invited to an exclusive writers' party hosted by Dixon Bainbridge. To make matters worse, Vince's newfound success as a writer has attracted even more attention to him from Gideon. Taking pity on his friend, Vince promises to put in a good word for Howard with Hamilton Cork._

_Vince manages to smuggle Howard into the party, but disaster strikes when he forgets his kitten picture, and, although Hamilton Cork is interested in his sentence, Howard punches Gideon in the face when she tries to criticize it. As Howard is escorted from the premises, Bainbridge reveals his plan to steal Vince's glory by putting his own name on the books. After being thoroughly humiliated by his superiors, Vince warns them that the real Charlie is coming for them._

_Hamilton Cork, Bainbridge, and Fossil are attacked by the bubblegum monster, after it crashes the party, and Vince loses the book deal. Howard, meanwhile, is depressed to learn that the battered Gideon has fallen for Vince's panda friend. When he asks Vince how he can remain so happy, the younger man claims that it is impossible to be unhappy in a poncho. He then presents Howard with a poncho of his own, and two minutes later the pair are dancing to Spanish fiesta music, their worries forgotten._

**Stupid**

As soon as he was inside the cabin, Howard wrenched the ridiculous poncho over his head and flung it onto the sofa, his own weary body following shortly after. Vince watched from the doorway, a puzzled frown marring his features as he absently toyed with his hair.

"I just don't get it," he was saying. "Why doesn't it work for you?"

Howard rolled his eyes as the younger man sat down beside him, perching on the edge of the sofa with his knees drawn up to his chest. "Because, Vince, as I tried explaining to you before, it takes a bit more than a Mexican rug to cheer me up. You know? I'm Howard Moon; troubled genius. There's a brooding poetry to me, you know."

Vince looked scandalized. "But the dancing…"

"A moment of temporary insanity, is all." Howard struggled to justify his actions. "Put the kettle on, will ya?"

Vince seemed to crumple slightly as he stood up to go and make the tea. He shook his head slightly as he poured water into the kettle. "Y'know, I reckon you're right. The ponchos have nothing to do with anything."

"Now he's getting it." Howard mumbled.

Vince turned around with his trademark shit-eating grin. "You're just in a mood because I made you have fun."

"I - _what?!_"

"Yeah, fun. You _do _remember what that is, don't you, Howard?"

It was on the tip of Howard's tongue to say; '_What do you think I keep you around for?' _but he managed to hold it back. Didn't want the little guy's ego to get even more inflated than it already was. Fortunately, Vince was still blathering on, oblivious.

"I mean, would it kill you to just hang loose and relax every now and again? So Gideon rebuffed you for a panda - so what? I'm the one that got screwed over with that book deal, I'm the one who was humiliated and shown up at that party, but do you see me hanging around weeping into corners, moping on about how depressing my life is? Get over yourself, Howard!"

"God, you really drive me up the wall sometimes!" Somewhere in the back of Howard's mind, he wondered dimly when they had degenerated into screaming at each other, but the rest of him was too riled up to care. "Acting as though everything's perfect all the time, never getting stressed or worried or upset about anything! I mean, do you really not understand that life isn't always going to be a little picnic, that you're not always going too get everything handed to you on a silver platter? Because if that's the case, then it really astounds me how anybody could be so _stupid!"_

As soon as the words left his mouth, Howard knew that he'd crossed the line. Vince looked as though he'd been slapped, and then he turned away, ducking his head slightly. The kettle whistled away cheerfully in the background, announcing that it had finished boiling, but it went ignored by both of them. This was the one thing that remained unspoken between them. And had been a low blow, Howard knew, but he hadn't been thinking clearly, caught up in the heat of the moment and driven by rage and -

Rage? What rage? Vince had just been teasing him like he normally did. Since when did he take it so much to heart? Normally they'd just have a good laugh about the whole thing and go back to normal, the tension broken. At the very least, Howard would grumble at Vince, but not take him seriously, more like he was an irritating fly that anything else. They certainly wouldn't resort to hurling cheap insults at each other, unless it was something _really _big. Which this most definitely wasn't.

"Vince?"

Nothing. Howard sighed and tried again. He'd really put his foot in it this time.

"Vince? Come on, Vince, look at me."

Reluctantly, the smaller man turned round again, although he still kept his head down, hiding behind his fringe.

"You're not stupid, Vince."

"No, I think you're right, Howard. I _am_ stupid."

He sniffed hard and Howard realized with a start that he was actually crying. What the hell? Okay, so he'd been harsh, he'd admit that freely, but he didn't think what he'd said merited actual tears. Did it?

"Hey, come on now." He said in what he hoped was a soothing tone, awkwardly putting his arm around the other man. Vince leaned into him gratefully, and Howard winced, still not entirely accustomed to the physical contact. Not that it was a bad sensation - not at all - but even so… "What's brought this on?"

"I'm sorry." Vince whispered, so quietly that Howard had to strain to hear him. "It's not you. It's just - something that someone said to me earlier."

"Who?"

Vince seemed hesitant to answer.

"Tell me, Vince."

"Bainbridge."

That one choked word sent an unpleasant shock down Howard's spine as he remembered his confrontation with their boss the other day. Bainbridge had warned him to keep Vince in line or else, and, not a week later, Vince had ruined the explorer's would-be book deal and set a giant pink bubblegum monster loose on the zoo.

"What did he do? Did he hurt you? If he hurt you, I swear to God, I'll -"

Vince looked positively bewildered by the older man's panic. "Howard, what are you on? He didn't _do _anything. It's more what he _said_, to be honest."

Howard calmed down slightly as he realized that Vince hadn't been physically damaged in any way, but the angry throb of hatred he felt towards Bainbridge didn't lessen any - if anything, it got worse. Vince had already told him everything that had happened at the party after he left, so he had no trouble at all imagining what the bastard had said to his friend. He could almost picture the scene in his head - Bainbridge and Fossil and Gideon and Hamilton Cork and the rest of those supercilious idiots laughing spitefully while Vince stood there and allowed himself to be mocked, a dull flush of anger and humiliation spreading across his cheeks. He suddenly felt the need to make sure Vince understood just how appreciated he was.

"Come on, Vince. You're not seriously paying any attention to those idiots, are you? You're better than that - you're better than _them_. You do know why everyone wants to hang out with you, don't you? It's not because of your hair or your clothes, no matter how fantastic they are - it's because people _like _you. They can't help being drawn in by you. You know? You're charming, funny, talented, and when you want to be - when you're not driving me absolutely _insane_ - you're actually quite a sweet person.

"And, yeah, so you can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. So what? It's not like you're a _complete _moron, is it? If you weren't a little bit simple, then you wouldn't be… you. I actually find it quite endearing, when you're not just playing dumb to be irritating." He broke off suddenly, sighing and running a hand through his hair, wondering how to continue.

"I know that sometimes I might seem like I'm trying to undermine or belittle you. I dunno, maybe you think I don't respect you enough. But I do, Vince, I swear I do. Just give me a chance to prove it."

There was silence for a very long time, before Vince gave a nervous little laugh.

"I, um… wow. Thank you."

Howard couldn't help smiling slightly - he'd just managed to render Vince Noir completely speechless. _That _had to be a noteworthy achievement.

"I guess I haven't exactly been a saint to you, either." Vince admitted softly.

"Nope. You've been a complete pain in the arse from the day I met you."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You may be a pain in the arse, but you're damn well worth it."

Vince grinned, eyes sparkling once again. Feeling the need for a change of subject, Howard cleared his throat loudly.

"So, what happened to Charlie?"

"Oh, he died." Vince said cheerfully.

"What?!"

"Joey Moose got a bit over-excited and dragged out the tranquilizer guns. They were only meant to be used on rhinos, though - they were too much for Charlie's soft pink bubblegum skin."

"Oh. I'm… sorry." What did you say to a guy whose imaginary friend had just been shot?

"It doesn't matter. He would've gotten bored anyway, now that I've stopped writing his books."

"You've finally packed that in, then?" Howard couldn't say that he was sorry.

"Yep. I decided I don't want to be a writer anymore, it's way too boring. All you do is talk about books and smoke pipes."

"Fair enough. What about Bainbridge, then?"

"What about him?"

"What happened to him?"

Vince's eyes hardened almost imperceptibly, and he smiled coldly, the effect so sinister that Howard was almost - _almost_ - frightened by the look on his friend's face.

"Oh, he got what he had coming to him."

"What does that mean?" Howard wasn't sure he even wanted to know, but he had to ask the question.

"Let's just say that Charlie managed to squeeze in a few last good deeds before he died."

Howard swallowed. "Vince… Charlie didn't _kill _Bainbridge, did he?"

To his credit, Vince did look shocked. "No, but he won't be going on any more explorations any time soon."

Howard closed his eyes. This was exactly the kind of thing he'd wanted to avoid. When Bainbridge came back to the zoo, he was going to be severely pissed off - and he would take it out on Vince.

"Vince… you've got to be more careful."

Vince looked at him, bemused. "What d'you mean?"

"Around Bainbridge. The man's dangerous."

"What, Bainbridge?!" Vince scoffed. "Get real. What's he gonna do, set his moustache on me?"

"Vince! Just… promise me that you'll take more care in the future."

"Howard, are you okay? You're starting to freak me out, here."

"Just promise me, Vince!"

"Okay, fine, I promise!" Vince burst out, rolling his eyes. He muttered something about 'going wrong' under his breath.

Howard gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "Good. Now, how 'bout that tea?"

Vince stared at him for a few seconds longer, looking as though he was about to call the men in the white coats, before standing up to boil the kettle again. As he fussed around inside the cupboards, searching for teabags, Howard could only hope that he'd hold good on his promise.

Because he had a feeling that this time, as much as he might want to, he wouldn't be able to protect Vince if Bainbridge truly set his sights on him.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you liked. I've already started writing the next chapter, so I'm hoping - fingers crossed - that it will be up tomorrow, or the day after at the very least. Of course, I'm sure a few reviews would help speed the process along a bit ;)


	7. The Great Electro Stab Up

**Author's Ramblings: **Well, you may have noticed that this chapter is a long one; the longest yet, and to be honest, I'm not sure whether anyone will like it all that much, as it's quite different to the others, but oh well. I had fun writing it, 'cause it's not as heavy and serious as a lot of the others. Although I suppose it can be in places, depending on how you interpret it... I'm not making much sense, am I? Just read the damn thing! Just for the record, it's set after the gig, when the girls go mental and 'stab everyone up'. Oh, and for the first time in this fic, I've had to write some warnings. I held out for as long as I could, but now the slightly sicker side of my imagination is starting to creep into this as well as everything else. Are we never to be free?

**WARNINGS: **This chapter contains moderate violence (both comical and not-so comical), bitch-fighting, a whole heap of bad language, the teeniest little bit of het, although it's so insignificant I don't even think it really counts, and some very mild femslash. I think that's everything. It's still only rated a 'T', so it shouldn't be _too_ bad. On the upside of things, there is some definite slashiness between everyone's favourite zookeepers in this chapter. We're not just talking about subtext anymore, either.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_'**Electro' episode recap: **Vince becomes irritated by Howard's obsession with jazz, while Howard is mocking of Vince's favourite electro music. Their discussions are soon put on hold, however, when two beautiful yet violent young women by the names of Ultra and Neon show up at the zoo. Despite Howard's awkward efforts to capture their attentions, the pair turn out to be electro girls, and are quickly won over by Vince's quirky charm. When they reveal that they are looking for a new frontman for their band Kraftwerk Orange, Vince sees it as a chance to finally realize his goal of stardom, and the offer proves too hard to resist._

_Howard chastises Vince for his lack of loyalty towards the zoo, and reveals that he himself once harboured dreams of becoming a famous jazz musician. Unfortunately, he sold his soul to the Spirit of Jazz, and though in doing so he became a musical genius, he can no longer pick up an instrument without the Spirit taking over his body. Vince, however, has quickly grown arrogant and fame-hungry, and refuses to believe Howard's story, instead storming out of the cabin and slagging off the zoo._

_During rehearsals with the band, Vince has an argument with the keyboardist, Johnny Two-Hats, so named because of his penchant for wearing two hats. Johnny eventually becomes so annoyed by Vince's superior behaviour that he leaves the band, and Ultra and Neon threaten Vince to find a replacement in time for their gig that night, or they promise to 'slash him up'._

_Back at the zookeepers' hut, Vince apologizes to Howard for his behaviour, and attempts to sweet-talk him into joining the band in place of Johnny Two-Hats. When that doesn't work, he tries to tempt the other man with the prospect of fame and stardom - and women - but Howard refuses, fearing that the Spirit of Jazz will return to haunt him if he plays music again. Vince takes his refusal the wrong way, and goes off in a strop to search for another replacement._

_For Howard, the temptation of playing his beloved jazz once again proves too much, and he inadvertently summons up the Spirit of Jazz by playing the trumpet. He goes to Naboo for help, and the shaman manages to capture the Spirit inside a Hoover, leaving Howard free to play once more. _

_When the time of the gig arrives and Vince is without a replacement, Ultra and Neon pull a knife on him, intending to carry through with their threat. Fortunately, Howard shows up in time to save the day, and the girls put aside their misgivings in order to try and secure a deal with the head of Pieface Records. The gig starts out well, but disaster strikes when the Spirit of Jazz breaks free and possesses Howard, causing him to have a 'jazz attack' and ruin the whole evening._

_When we next see the hapless zookeepers, both seem more than a little worse for the wear, Vince sporting a bandage round his forehead and Howard a patch over his eye. Vince reveals that Ultra and Neon went mental after the gig failed, stabbing everyone in sight. He also admits that the rock 'n' roll lifestyle isn't for him after all, and Howard forgives him, satisfied that he's learnt his lesson. _

**The Great Electro Stab-Up**

Somewhere, Vince was dimly aware of the jazzy trumpet notes screeching to a halt and a loud thump as somebody fell on the floor next to him, followed by lots and lots of shouting, but it all seemed to go over his head. Which, incidentally, hurt rather a lot. He summoned up all of his willpower and flopped over onto his back, blinking hard to dispel the spots dancing in front of his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened. When he was fairly certain that he wasn't going to be sick, he sat up fully and looked around. His jaw promptly fell open as he took in the scene.

The two electro girls had gone absolutely mental, both of them drawing their knives and slashing up anyone in sight. The crowd were screaming and running for the exits, toppling over tables and chairs in their wake. As Vince watched, the man he had wrongly believed to be the head of Pieface Records was cowering in the corner as Ultra advanced on him, waving her knife menacingly.

Vince suddenly felt a surge of panic as he realized that Howard was nowhere to be seen. With the other man's tendency to get himself into sticky situations, it wouldn't be long before he was sliced in half like a cucumber. Vince needed to find him, _now_. He didn't even know if Howard would be free from the Spirit of Jazz yet. If not, then his problems were only just beginning.

"Howard?"

There was no answer, and Vince didn't dare raise his voice above a whisper, for fear that Ultra or Neon would hear him even above the din. There was absolutely no question in his mind that the girls would want to make him suffer - he had, after all, managed to single-handedly ruin their band within the space of a day. Steeling himself, he set off in search of his friend, keeping low to the ground and crawling under overturned tables. He was making agonizingly slow progress and his anxiety levels only increased with every extra second that he couldn't find his friend. A man's body suddenly crashed to the floor right in front of him, and he had to clamp a hand to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. God, what was he going to do? Then the crowds parted slightly, and he saw what was possibly the most beautiful sight of his entire life; Howard, sitting propped against a chair, groaning and clutching at his head, but very much alive, in one piece, and seemingly himself.

"Howard!"

Vince was quite sure that he'd never been so grateful to see the other man before, although he wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to kiss him or kill him. Possibly both. He started towards his friend, when he suddenly felt a hand tangle painfully in his hair, stopping him in his tracks.

"Where the fuck d'you think you're going?" An angry female voice drawled in his ear. He tried unsuccessfully to twist around and find out the identity of his soon-to-be murderer, but the angle was too awkward without his neck snapping in two. He yelped as she gave an extra-hard yank on his hair and then kicked him forcefully in the ribs, sending him sprawling face-first onto the floor for the third time that day. He rolled over onto his back again and caught a glimpse of dark hair as he did so. Neon, then. Not good. He'd somehow gotten the impression that she was the more violent of the two, and at that precise moment in time she was glaring down at him with an expression that could only be described as 'murderous' on her face.

"You ruined our gig, bitch." She snarled, grabbing a fistful of his shirt as she straddled him, and yanking his face up to hers until they were practically nose-to-nose. Even in spite of the situation, Vince couldn't help but grin as he realized their proximity.

"Y'know, if this was what you had in mind, all had to do is ask. Could we go someplace quieter though?"

Neon screamed in frustration and slapped him hard around the face, allowing his head to fall back onto the floor with such a force that his ears rang and the pounding in his skull started up again, even worse than before. He groaned as his vision swam and Neon's face came in and out of focus, a blur of black hair and bright make-up and an angry scowl.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, "Don't you dare pass out on me. I ain't finished with you yet. You're gonna pay for what you did to us."

Over her shoulder, Vince could just about make out Johnny Two-Hats - or was it Johnny Four-Hats now? - clutching his chest and writhing in agony as Ultra brought her switchblade down on him again and again. He winced in sympathy, unable to help the pang of pity he felt for the guy. He was a twat of the first order, there was no denying that, but no-one deserved death by angry electro girl. It was a fate that Vince wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Well, maybe Fossil or Bainbridge.

He suddenly realized that Neon was going for her knife, and with a rush of adrenaline he lashed out and connected with her hand, sending the blade skittering away across the floor. She let out a howl of rage that sounded more animal than human, and began clawing at his face with her fingernails, seemingly intent on gouging his eyes out. Driven by a strong sense of self-preservation and the paralysing fear that she would ruin his face, Vince grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and pulled as hard as he could. The two of them rolled over and over across the floor until they finally came to a stop right in front of the stage, mercifully with Vince on top this time. Neon was struggling like a fish out of water, however, writhing and cursing and digging her nails into his shoulder blades, so Vince did the only thing he could think of to do in this situation; he kissed her. Hard.

He had been hoping that the old Noir charm would work on her and she'd stop trying to rip out his throat with her bare hands, but it didn't really work out that way. Instead, Neon was completely unresponsive for the first few seconds, frozen with shock. Then she started making horrible gagging noises and forcibly pushed him away from her.

"Ugh!" She spat, once she'd finished choking. "That's disgusting."

Vince sat back on his haunches and looked at her in bemusement, rather insulted. On the bright side, she wasn't trying to kill him anymore, but he wasn't used to people being able to resist him like that. Maybe he was losing his touch.

"I don't get it." He mused, mostly to himself.

Neon looked at him with irritation, although she looked suspiciously like she was trying to hide some amusement. Maybe there _was _a real person in there somewhere. "Maybe you're just not my type."

Vince stared at her incredulously. "What are you on about? I'm _everyone's_ type."

"Not if your type's _women_, dickhead."

"Oh." Vince said faintly, clearly baffled. Then, "Oh!" as the penny dropped. "So, are you and Ultra -?"

Neon rolled her eyes. "_Now _he's getting it."

Vince grinned. "Cool. Can I watch you sometime?"

"I don't think so."

Suddenly seeming to remember that she was supposed to be killing him, Neon managed to send him crashing to the ground yet _again _with a sharp shove, before coming to land deftly on top of him. She'd somehow managed to get the knife again, Vince realized with a sinking feeling in his gut. By this stage, he was genuinely fearing for his life, and he fought desperately to get out from underneath her. Neon was a little bit smaller than he was, but what she lacked in size she more than made up for in determination, and the pain in Vince's head was making him weak, his movements becoming slow and sluggish. The crowd in the club had thinned considerably by now, the majority of the people having either run away or died trying, and Vince could see that Howard was now struggling with Ultra a few feet away, in much the same position as he was currently in. There was a difference, however, in that Howard had the advantage of a large body mass with which to subdue his opponent, whereas Vince, having practically no volume to him, probably didn't weigh much more than Neon. In fact, he probably weighed _less _than she did, if anything.

Neon was now holding the knife over him, her face still blank and expressionless as when they had met. Somehow, that made it all the more terrifying.

"You know, it almost seems a shame," She said conversationally, "To ruin such a pretty face."

"I thought you only liked girls?" Vince questioned, momentarily confused.

Neon smirked. "Well, you're near enough."

"You should be careful, you know. I'm almost getting to like you."

Neon's smirk just got wider, and she leaned over him, stroking the tip of the blade down the side of his face, the pressure just short of being enough to actually puncture the skin. She was toying with him, Vince realized, the way a cat would toy with a mouse before crushing its spine. Unfortunately, she was just a little bit too busy having fun with her prey to keep an eye on what he was doing. Vince had somehow managed to get a hand free, and he lashed out blindly with his fist, miracle of miracles connecting with her face. There was a resounding _crack! _and Neon shrieked in pain, dropping the blade again as both her hands went flying to her nose, which was clearly broken and seeping blood. Vince felt a slightly perverse sense of gratification as he remembered exactly the same thing happening to him earlier that day when Johnny Two-Hats kicked him over during rehearsals. Maybe there _was_ something to be said for karma, after all.

The downside was, he was now feeling even more light-headed and drowsy than ever, having spent the last of his energy delivering that blow. He drifted in and out of consciousness, vision and sound coming and going as Neon still sat on top of him, swearing and cursing. He wasn't sure how long it was before she got aggressive again, but after a while he registered that there were sharp pains shooting up and down the whole of his body as she clawed and scratched at him. He would have fought back, but it was too much effort; his limbs felt as though they weighed about a ton each. It didn't even hurt that much, anyway. And it would all be over soon…

"Vince!"

He was abruptly startled back into full awareness by the sound of his name being shouted out. The next things he knew, a Howard-shaped blur was charging towards him at full speed. He barrelled right into Neon, the force enough to send both of them flying across the room, where they grappled with each other in a furious blur of arms and legs. Vince forced himself into a half-sitting position to watch, and realized that, apart from Ultra, who was lying in a heap on the floor a little distance away, they were now the only people left in the club. Other than all the dead ones, anyway.

"Vince, I could use a little assistance, here!"

Vince's wandering attention returned to the situation at hand. Howard now had Neon pinned to the floor, but she was struggling for all she was worth, kicking and biting and clawing. Vince was at a loss, especially as he noticed Ultra beginning to groan and twitch as she came to. Then he spotted the knife lying on the floor, and his eyes lit up, a proverbial light bulb seeming to go off over his head.

"Wait a minute, Howard, I've got an idea!"

He picked up the knife, staring at it for a moment as if it were some kind of alien thing, before gingerly picking his way over to Howard and Neon, wincing as every movement made his head throb all the more. Together, he and Howard managed to wrestle the electro girl into a sitting position, and Howard held her arms securely behind her back while Vince silenced her with a sweaty hand over her mouth. She made various noises of disgust and continued to struggle, but soon stilled when he put the knife against her throat.

Across the room, Ultra was staggering to her feet, and stopped dead when she saw her partner at knifepoint. She raised her hands and very slowly began to limp towards Howard and Vince.

"Take it easy." She said calmly, addressing Vince. "Put the knife down. No-one needs to get hurt."

"You clearly weren't thinking that when you started all of this, were you?" Howard answered, casting an eye around the room. "Too much blood has been shed today, sir. But we're prepared to give you another chance. Leave now and don't come back here, and we'll let her go."

Ultra sneered, a wholly unattractive look. "You won't kill anyone. You don't have it in you."

"Yeah, we do." Vince argued unconvincingly. "We wouldn't even think _twice_ about killing her."

Ultra eyed them appraisingly for a moment. "Fine." She said finally. "Do it. Kill her. See if I care."

Neon widened her eyes and made muffled noises of outrage against Vince's hand. Vince hesitated for a tense few seconds, the lowered the knife with a resigned sigh, and removed his hand from Neon's mouth. Neon wrenched from Howard's grip with surprising strength for such a tiny figure, and moved to stand next to Ultra.

"Vince!" Howard hissed.

"I'm sorry, Howard." Vince apologized meekly. "I couldn't kill her. Blood makes me feel like I'm gonna throw up, and I might've gotten it in me hair!"

"What shall we do with 'em now?" Ultra asked, smiling triumphantly. Neon, on the other hand, looked curiously blank.

"Please don't kill me!" Howard whimpered. "I've got so much to give!"

Ultra ignored him, instead walking over to Vince and staring him down for a few minutes before tearing the knife from his limp grip. She handed it back to Neon before drawing her own, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

"Let's stab 'em up!"

"Leave them." Neon said thickly through her broken nose, which was now swollen and already beginning to look a crooked shape that was not a million miles away from Vince's.

Howard and Vince gaped at each other in shock. Why would they just let them go? It had to be a trick or something.

"What?" Apparently Ultra was just as bewildered as they were, looking at her bandmate in confusion.

"I said leave them. And by the way," She turned to look up at the taller girl, crossing her arms in defiance. "Next time you decide to gamble with someone's life, make sure it isn't mine."

"Oh, come on, I knew they were bluffing! Of course they wouldn't kill you, they probably wouldn't know _how_ to. They're complete morons, the pair of them!"

"Hey!" Howard and Vince protested simultaneously.

"What if you'd been wrong?" Neon demanded, ignoring them.

"I wasn't, so it doesn't matter."

Neon drew back her hand and slapped Ultra so hard that the sound of it echoed around the room. Then she reached up and dragged Ultra's head down, drawing her into a searing kiss that was all tongues and teeth and nails and obscene moaning. Apparently they weren't shy of an audience, then. Howard felt rather confused by the whole scenario, wondering whether he'd missed something, whereas Vince was staring unabashedly, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He licked his lips and shifted slightly in a wholly unsuccessful attempt to disguise his arousal as Ultra and Neon continued their little show. When they finally broke apart, they were both covered in smudges of each other's make-up and blood from Neon's face.

"Looks like you got your wish after all." Neon remarked to Vince, smirking slightly. Vince just nodded dumbly.

"Why are you letting us go?" Howard wanted to know.

"You're letting _us _go." Neon pointed out. "Only seemed fair to return the favour."

"Does this mean I'm not in the band anymore, then?" Vince asked.

Ultra just gave him A Look, whereas Neon seemed almost amused again, shaking her head. Neither of them answered him, beginning to head out of the club.

"Well, maybe see you around, yeah?" Vince called out after them hopefully. They both paused and looked at him incredulously.

"I fucking well hope not." Ultra muttered.

"Vince, no offence or anything," Neon began, "But if we ever see you again, we _will _slice you. Don't expect any special treatment or anything."

Vince swallowed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Once that was clear, the headed out the door again, Neon tossing a 'Laters' over her shoulder and Ultra merely flipping them the two-fingered salute. Once they'd gone, Howard and Vince turned to look at each other.

"Well, that was insane." Vince muttered. But he was smiling, ever so slightly.

"Tell me about it," Howard agreed. "You look like an absolute mess, by the way."

Vince could only imagine what he looked like, still in his Kraftwerk Orange costume, his combed-over hair coming undone and falling in clumps over his eyes, eyeliner - amongst other things - smudged all over his face. He could practically feel the heavy, sticky make-up clinging to his skin, and for a moment he worried that it would clog up his pores. He was definitely going to have a _long _shower when he got in. But he didn't admit any of this to Howard. Couldn't have him thinking he'd won, could he?

"You've got room to talk, you should see yourself!"

"Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, where are your clothes, for starters?"

"That, sir, is a long story."

"And what happened 'ere?" Vince reached out to touch the large, purplish bruise forming above Howard's eye. The older man hissed and batted his hand away irritably.

"Ow! Don't prod it! Neon hit me with her synthesizer."

Vince suddenly grinned. "She was amazing, wasn't she?"

Howard stared at him in complete astonishment. Every time he thought that Vince couldn't possibly surprise him anymore, he had to go and come out with something like that and completely blow him away.

"What happened to the Spirit of Jazz, then?" Vince asked, before Howard got a chance to say anything.

"He had to leave me as soon as I stopped playing." Howard explained. "He can only stay inside someone if they're playing. So as long as I never pick up another instrument again for the rest of my life, I'll be okay." He sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you about that, by the way." Vince apologized, "And I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. I guess it just went to my head, thinking that I was going to be famous, but I acted like a twat. So… I'm sorry."

Howard didn't really know what to say, so he just shrugged. "You're bleeding." He remarked as he turned to look at Vince. He stretched out his fingers to touch the deep gash on the younger man's forehead, but he stopped just short as though there were some invisible barrier between them, his hand falling limply to his side.

Vince frowned. "Am I?" He reached up to investigate the wound himself, and stared at his fingers as they came back red and shiny with blood. He visibly paled at the sight, and it was clear that he hadn't been lying before when he'd said that blood made him feel ill. Howard watched him, transfixed, until he was unable to help himself. Obeying a part of his brain that he rarely listened to, he picked up Vince's hand and put the fingers into his mouth one by one, slowly sucking the blood from each of the digits. Vince gasped and looked at Howard, slack-jawed, his eyes so dark they were almost black. His expression was very similar to the one he had worn when he watched Ultra and Neon kissing, an odd mix of lust and innocent wonderment that was rarely seen on anyone except teenagers experimenting for the first time. Which Vince most definitely was not.

When he was finished, Howard sat back and looked at Vince looking at him as a thousand questions tumbled into his head, mostly along the lines of: _What in the name of Charlie Parker possessed you to do that? And why the hell did it feel so good? _He could still taste the metallic tang of Vince's blood on his tongue; Vince continued to stare at him for the longest time, eyes glassy and lips slightly parted, until finally he swallowed nervously.

"Um, what - what was that all about?"

_Well, this was awkward._ "I, uh, I don't know. Post-traumatic stress disorder?"

Vince's brow creased in confusion. "What does that mean?" Oh, good, he was distracted by the confusing long words. Hopefully he'd forgotten the whole situation already, and it could be stored away in Howard's mental filing cabinet labelled: _Embarrassing Incidents Never To Be Discussed._

"Whatever, just don't do it again, 'cause it was well weird." Or maybe not. _The lying little bastard, _Howard thought, _I saw the look on your face, you can't pretend you didn't enjoy it._ Aloud, all he said was;

"I bet you wouldn't have minded if it was _Neon _who did it." Did that sound as childish as he thought it did?

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why'd you kiss her, Vince?" There, he'd said it. He'd asked the question.

Vince stared at him in disbelief. "Howard, are you _jealous?"_

"No." Howard responded petulantly. In truth, he _had_ felt a completely irrational spike of jealousy when he'd seen Vince kissing Neon like that, and even now, he still couldn't figure out why. But whichever way he looked at it, it had been so intense that he's wanted to storm right over there and punch her in the face. Not that he could have done it; at the time he was a bit preoccupied with the other one. But still, it was the thought that counted.

"I was trying to distract her." Vince was saying, "I thought that, you know, if she got a taste of the patented Vince Noir charm, she wouldn't be able to kill me. 'Course, it would be just my luck that the one time I need to kiss my way out of a sticky situation, the lunatic that's trying to rip my heart out is only interested in girls. I didn't _fancy _her." He added quickly.

To Howard, it sounded as though he was protesting too much. "Liar. You were practically drooling over her. In fact, I seem to remember that that was the only reason you joined the band in the first place - to get inside both of their pants."

Vince grinned wickedly. "Well, I wouldn't say no. She _was _pretty hot."

"She tried to kill you, Vince!"

"Yeah, but that's all water under the bridge now, innit? What's a little attempted murder amongst friends?"

Howard shook his head in utter incredulity. Even he, who was pretty much used to Vince and his warped logic, could still be shocked by the depths to which his friend would plumb. And speaking of Vince, he was now looking decidedly pale, and swaying slightly on the spot as his eyelashes fluttered open and closed.

"I think I'm just gonna… pass out, if you don't mind." He mumbled, his head dropping onto his chest. He really was losing quite a bit of blood, and Howard felt a stirring of concern in his chest.

"Oh no, you don't. Come on, little man, we need to get you home. Actually, we need to get out of here before the police arrive, or, knowing our luck, they'll think that we did this and arrest us."

"Howard?" Vince asked as they staggered out onto the darkened street. After Howard had found some clothes to put back on, obviously.

"Yeah?"

"You do know that I'd never leave you, don't you? I'd never leave the zoo. Even if… even if the band took off and we became superstars, I'd still stay here."

In the morning, Howard would put those words down to deliria and blood loss coupled with far too much excitement for one day. He knew that Vince was lying through his teeth, after all. He knew the younger man well enough to know that if he was truly given the chance to shine, he'd be off like a shot, away from London, away from the zoo, away from Howard. But just for the moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe there was some truth behind those words, and it gave him hope. For whatever was coming next.

* * *

**A/N: **Teehee. I've been waiting for an excuse to write Ultra/Neon for ages now, 'cause I do love 'em so. They're such great characters, portrayed of course by the fabulous Robots in Disguise. For those of you who are reading it, they will be making a special guest appearance in the next chapter of my mature fic 'The Most Tempting Rose', which I'm hoping to update tomorrow.

Oh, and the whole Bainbridge plotline will be continued in the next chapter, but he didn't appear in 'Electro', so obviously it would have been quite difficult to write him into a missing scene for that episode. I am now fairly sure that I know where that plot is going though, so happy days.

Anyway... please review. You know how it makes me feel fuzzy inside


	8. Changes

**Author's Ramblings: **I'm back! And God, I am _so _sorry for the recent shameful lack of updates. I had a huge writers' block for about two weeks, and then I was extremely busy with rehearsals for my show, as some of you probably know. And then once _that_ was out of the way, it took me forever to actually write this, because, frankly, it's bloody long. It actually took me over a week to get the whole thing typed up, even when I was spending about two hours a night writing it. Part of the reason it's so long is because I wanted to use it to try and tie up some of the loose ends and explain the differences - or my interpretation of them, anyway - between series one and two a little more clearly. And I'm afraid there's yet more angst ahead, people. I just can't seem to help myself.

Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to listen(?) to me prattling on for any longer, so I'll shut up now. Enjoy.

- - - - - X - - - - -

'_**Hitcher' episode recap: **__Howard and Vince are called in to escort Ivan the bear to the Zoo for Animal Offenders after he breaks out of his cage while Fossil is showing a group of school children round. Howard attempts to 'bond' with Vince during the long car journey, but Vince is clearly more interested in his magazine. When Howard finally does get him to talk, he has nothing of intelligence to say, and Howard quickly becomes irritated. After several arguments revolving around trivial things such as food (Vince only thought to bring a bag of sweets) and music (Howard's beloved jazz versus Vince's electro-pop), Howard's mood worsens, although the ever-oblivious Vince fails to notice. Eventually, to distract Vince from falling asleep, Howard asks him to tell some stories of his childhood growing up in the forest._

_Vince begins to talk of his days in the jungle with his adoptive father Bryan Ferry, adding all kinds of unlikely-sounding details, like the fact they used to live in a tree house made of bus tickets. He tells of the time when the monkeys tried to steal his face, but he fails to give the story a proper ending and Howard grows even more annoyed. Vince then tells Howard of a shortcut they can take that will cut the time of their journey down from six hours to twenty minutes. It turns out, however, that the 'shortcut' doesn't exist - it's just a strawberry bootlace lying on top of the map. By this stage, Howard is furious and rages at Vince with an array of condescending insults. In outrage, Vince gets out of the car, threatening to walk by himself. Howard drives off, leaving him alone in the 'Forest of Death'._

_Meanwhile, back at the zoo, Fossil is busy sucking up to Naboo, to whom he owes a life-debt for saving him from Ivan. Naboo appears more irritated than grateful for this, however. As the two of the sit drinking tea, Naboo sees it spelt out in the tea leaves that Howard and Vince are in danger. Naboo sets out to save them, and Fossil insists on accompanying him._

_Still wandering alone through the forest, Vince encounters his old friend Bryan Ferry (who, incidentally, looks nothing like Bryan Ferry). The pair greet each other with fondness and Ferry sets about fussing over Vince. He appears less than impressed, however, hen Vince reveals that he is working in a zoo, claiming that all animals should be free. When Vince asks to see his old friend Jahooli the leopard, Ferry tells him of a curse that has fallen on the forest, a green man-witch who has been taking the animals. Vince realizes that Howard may be in danger and sets out to find him, appearing to feel a little guilty over their earlier argument. Ferry gives him a horn and tells him to blow it should he encounter trouble, promising to come to his aid._

_Howard, still driving through the forest in the animal transit van, picks up a strange Cockney hitchhiker with bright green skin and a giant polo covering his left eye. Howard appears nervous and rather frightened, and when the Hitcher gets out for a toilet break, he drives off. He realizes that the Hitcher's box is still in the car, and attempts to throw it away. Unfortunately, his curiosity proves too much, and he opens the lid. As he does so, he is pulled inside the box, and the lid closes behind him._

_While Fossil and Naboo speed through the forest on a motorbike and sidecar, Howard sits inside the darkness of the box, which is much bigger on the inside that the outside. He is reunited with Vince, who reveals that the Hitcher picked him up and put him in the box. The lights snap on and the Hitcher appears, welcoming them to his Zoo for Animal Offenders. He reveals his plans to slash Vince and Howard up and feed them to his menagerie, and asks them if they have any last requests before they die. Vince asks to blow the horn that Bryan Ferry gave him, and Ferry starts galloping through the forest to the rescue upon hearing the sound. Unfortunately, he is hit by Fossil's motorbike on his way. Howard asks to listen to some slap bass, and the Hitcher immediately begins to play with his enormous thumb. While Vince shakes his head in disgust, Ivan becomes so riled up that he pounces on the Hitcher and attacks him. However, the Hitcher managed to escape, leaving his fate uncertain._

**Changes**

Vince looked down at his boots as he sat on a log, thinking. It was a long time since he'd been in the forest, and for all he loved the city, this was definitely home to him, among the animals and the wildlife. He'd always liked animals so much more than people. Animals didn't judge. Animals didn't play favourites, they didn't insult and belittle each other, they didn't deliberately cause hurt. Animals didn't incite wars, and the only murder they committed was that which they needed to do in order to survive. Animals didn't care what colour your skin was, how you did your hair, or whether you wore make-up. With the animals, Vince didn't have to put on a face. He could be himself.

"Hey. What you doing?"

Vince turned at the familiar voice as a figure joined him on the log. Howard. It was always Howard. He smiled a little to himself, despite his melancholy mood.

"Nothin' much."

"Oh."

They lapsed into slightly awkward silence. Now that the adrenaline from the Hitcher's attack had worn off, they were a little uncomfortable around each other from their earlier disagreements. They always bickered with one another - with two people that were so radically different spending so much time together, that was almost impossible to avoid. But the fights had been getting more and more frequent recently. Vince felt as though things were changing between them, and he didn't like it at all.

"You know Bryan asked me to stay here with him?" He blurted out suddenly, shattering the tension.

"Oh… really?" Howard looked at him a bit oddly. "Well, are you going to?"

"I don't know…"

Howard's stomach dropped unexpectedly onto the floor. He hadn't expected that reply at all. He had expected Vince to laugh at him and tell him off for being so stupid, and that would be the end of the matter. But this… Vince didn't really want to leave him, did he? After all they'd been through together?

"I didn't realize how much I'd missed this place until now." Vince was saying, a faraway look in his eye. "This is my home, Howard. And the times we've had, they've been fantastic, amazing… you've shown me things I never even dreamed of before, but… It ain't the same anymore, is it? You an' me, we're changing. Do you even really like me anymore, honestly?"

"Vince, of course I do!" Howard exclaimed, aghast. "How can you even say that?!"

"I dunno, Howard, you're not exactly giving out the right signals here, y'know? I just think maybe it'd be better if we had a break, that's all."

"A break? We're not _dating, _Vince."

"See? There you go again. You're always patri - paton - Argh!" He cried out in frustration at his inability to find the right words. "You always make me feel so _stupid!_"

"Patronizing." Howard supplied quietly. Sadly. "The word is 'patronizing', Vince. I'm always patronizing you."

"Yeah. That."

Howard sighed. He wasn't _that _bad, was he? He didn't mean to be. It was just that Vince was always so charming and dazzling and _perfect _that he felt the need to overcompensate slightly. And the other man didn't exactly make it easy, either. If he rubbed Vince's lack of intelligence in his face, then Vince did his best to humiliate Howard in every other way. He would upstage Howard in every social situation they encountered, and as for his flirtations with Mrs Gideon… he just couldn't stand not being the centre of attention. Really, they were six of one and half a dozen of the other. But now probably wasn't the best time to bring all of that up. The most important thing right now was persuading Vince to come back with him.

"Come on, Vince, you can't leave! What about the zoo? What about the animals? There's still so much that I wanted to teach you. At the very least, you need to know what to do with a zebra on crack!"

"Howard…" _Don't make this harder than it needs to be. I don't want to hurt you. That's why I'm doing this._

"Vince…" _I need you. You taught me how to live. Don't abandon me now._

Vince sighed and rested his head against Howard's shoulder, closing his eyes tiredly as neither of them were able to finish their sentences aloud.

"What do you w_ant, _Howard? Do you want me to stay with you? 'Cause if you do, you know I will. But if you want to get rid of me for a while… if you want me to stay here… then I'll do that, too. I'm offering you a way out, here. The decision's yours."

Howard swallowed. It was do or die time. He had to make sure he said the right thing. He didn't want to leave without Vince, of course he didn't. The concept of life without the younger man was unthinkable, unimaginable. In many ways, it was like trying to picture a world without sunshine, living in the shadows for the rest of his life. But at the same time, if Vince truly wanted to return to his home in the forest, then who was Howard to stop him? The last thing he would ever want to do was condemn his friend to a miserable existence at Howard's side, trapped in an invisible cage like one of the animals at the zoo.

"I want…" He began slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I want us to stay together, Vince. But only if that's what _you _want, as well. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to. If you want to stay here in the forest, I'll… I'll understand." _It might kill me, but I'll understand. _"Don't think even for a minute that I want to get rid of you, though, because nothing could be farther from the truth. I _like _having you around. If I didn't, I wouldn't have put up with you for so long. Now, do you want to come home with me? Or not?"

Vince raised his head, and in that moment, Howard knew he'd said the right thing for once. He could see it in the way that the younger man's eyes lit up and a soft, genuine smile graced his face.

"Yes." He whispered, eyes suspiciously bright. "God, yes. I don't wanna leave you. I want to go home."

Howard smiled ever so slightly, and leaned his head against Vince's. "Well, come on, then. What are we waiting for?"

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard sighed and peered through the windscreen of the animal transit van, struggling to see through the growing darkness even with the pitiful beam from the headlights. He had taken over control of the steering wheel from Vince a long time ago, after a few minor brushes with death. After that incident with the swamp, he had made a mental note to never let Vince into the driver's seat of a vehicle again. It was just a disaster waiting to happen.

He glanced over at the other man now, wondering what was going on inside that head of his. Although his mood had improved considerably since their heart-to-heart back in the forest earlier, it was clear to see that there was still something playing on his mind. Howard suspected it had less to do with the recent attempts made on his life by an evil green hitchhiker, and more to do with returning to the place he had grown up in. At the moment, he was doing a very convincing job of pretending to be asleep - slumped down in his seat, hat tilted over his face, chest moving up and down evenly. Except that was how Howard could tell that he was only acting - because he was so still. He was like a statue. Vince _never_ stayed so motionless when he was asleep, he was always tossing and turning and moving around. On more than one occasion he had woken up in the morning completely tangled up in his sleeping bag from his night-time shenanigans. The boy just didn't do still.

"Vince?" Howard whispered. He received no answer, although his partner's breathing did seem to speed up a bit.

"_Vince!" _He hissed again, louder. Still nothing. "I know you're awake."

Finally, Vince lifted his hat in order to glare daggers at Howard. "What?"

"You okay?"

"M'fine."

"You sure?"

Vince rolled his eyes. "Well, I'd be better if I hadn't just been woken up by a twat with a ridiculous moustache."

Howard chose to ignore that last comment. "Come off it; you weren't asleep!"

"Was too."

"I'm not doing this, Vince."

"Whatever. What d'you want, anyway?"

"I'm bored."

"And this is my problem because…?"

"Me driver, you passenger, remember? Entertain me. Tell me another story."

Vince groaned in frustration. "You've heard all my stories a million times!"

"Not one of those stories. I want you to tell me another one." The older man turned to look him directly in the eyes (a risky procedure whilst trying to drive a car through the forest in the middle of the night). "I want you to tell me about your parents. Your _real _parents."

For a moment, Vince looked utterly taken aback. He clearly hadn't expected that. Then he seemed to collect himself. "And why… would I do that?"

"I think it's time, Vince. I've known you long enough now. Almost ten years, and you've never mentioned them at all. I've never pushed you, but I think… I think if I'm going to understand you better, I need to know."

Vince continued to stare at him for several seconds, completely dumbstruck. Then, much to Howard's surprise, he began to nod, very slowly.

"All right." He said, somewhat shakily. "Okay… My real parents… my real parents were rockstars. Not particularly well-known ones, mind. They never became very successful, either of them. Probably 'cause neither of 'em could sing for shit. I've still got one of their records somewhere… Awful stuff. Anyway, Noel Zeller - that was me dad - he was touring round Europe when 'e met a girl called Delilah Noir at a gig in France, a battle of the bands type thing. An' they got on quite well, so they started dating. Not too long after that, they got together and made a band called Black Christmas - it's French, see, 'cause 'Noel' means 'Christmas' and 'Noir' means 'black'. But what they didn't expect was for me mum to get 'herself knocked up six weeks later. So nine months after _that, _a boy called Vincent Noir was born. Me.

"I took Mum's name 'cause Dad wasn't really around all that much. 'E didn't live with us, 'cause they were still both quite young, and he wasn't ready to look after a kid, but they still had a thing going on so he popped round every now and then. Obviously while Mum was stuck at home lookin' after me, she didn't get too many gigs, but at the same time, Dad was building up a bit of a name for himself. And like most people in music do, he got into drugs. I remember once, when I was about seven or eight, he brought this man round to the house where me an' Mum lived. I didn't like 'im much. He had this horrible stoaty weaselly face. Anyway, they got out a bag of white powder - I didn't know what it was at the time - and they arranged it all in little rows and sort of hovered it up their noses with straws. I remember thinking how weird it was at the time. Then Dad offered some to Mum, an' she seemed kinda like she didn't want to do it at first, but eventually Dad persuaded her, 'cause she never could say no to him. Then Dad and the man packed up an' left, an' I thought that was the end of it."

"But it wasn't." Howard prompted gently.

Vince blinked and turned his head, as if he was only just remembering that Howard was there. "No. It wasn't. After that night, for the next few days, Mum was kinda… on edge. She would snap at the slightest things, cry at the drop of a hat. I thought she was ill. The next week, the man came back again, and Mum gave him some money for more of the white powder. And you can probably guess what happened from then on. She just got worse and worse, until all she cared about was getting her next fix. More than she cared about me. Trouble was, we didn't have much money, with Mum being out of work an' all, and eventually she had to start paying the dealer in other ways to get the drugs. I only found out 'cause I walked in on them once. I didn't understand the whole… sex thing then, but I saw them naked in bed together, kissing, and I was old enough to be confused by the fact that Mum was kissing a man who wasn't Dad.

"Anyway, it went on like that, until one day, she slashed her wrists in the bath. I was the one that found her. I remember going in because she'd been such a long time, and the whole bathroom was filled with steam. And the blood… there was so much blood everywhere. The water was red. And she was just kind of floating there, all pale, with her eyes closed, and I thought she looked like an angel. I kept shaking her, an' - an' begging her to wake up, but she never did. She never woke up…"

"Jesus Christ, Vince." Howard gaped, staring at his friend. When he'd asked the question, he hadn't expected anything like this. It explained a lot about Vince's attitude to life, though. His neediness, for one thing, his desire to be accepted by everyone else, while at the same time wanting to be seen as independent. His extreme reaction after Howard had come back from the 'dead' certainly made a lot more sense now, too. Having said that, it was remarkable that he wasn't more damaged by it. Howard had to admit that he was proud of the man Vince had grown into, given his past. It could have turned out a lot differently.

Making a decision, he pulled the car over and cut the engine, not caring that they were out in the middle of nowhere. Vince needed him. Tears were pouring unchecked down his face now, and his breathing was coming in short gasps. It was painfully obvious that in talking about this he was re-opening an old wound, that until now he'd previously kept it bottled up inside, never sharing it with anyone.

"Vince…?" Howard asked hesitantly. "It's okay. You can stop now."

Vince shook his head determinedly, staring straight ahead. "I'm okay. I'm okay." He repeated, as if trying to convince himself. "I can do this. I _need _to do this. I have to finish it, now I've started." He took a few deep breaths, and then continued. "I was allowed to go to the funeral. Dad was there - only time I ever saw him wear a suit. He looked at me, all sad like, and said he was sorry. At the time, I didn't know what he was apologizing for. Then he took me over to this man and said his name was Bryan Ferry, that they'd met at a gig a few years back. That Bryan was going to take care of me. I didn't understand why _he _couldn't take care of me, but I got in Bryan's car anyway, and he took me to the forest. And I didn't come out again for the next six years, until I ran away to London at the age of fourteen. Lived on the streets for two years, and you know the rest of the story. That's when I met you."

"God, Vince." For the life of him, Howard didn't know what to say. So he didn't say anything, instead choosing to grasp Vince's hand, interlocking their fingers together. Next thing he knew, the smaller man had all but launched himself across the divide between the sets, burying his face in Howard's chest and sobbing into his jacket, clinging to him desperately. And just this once - or so he told himself - Howard let him, bringing his arms around the skinny body as he whispered meaningless words of comfort in his ear:

"It's okay. I've got you now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to let you go."

- - - - - X - - - - -

By the time they arrived back at the zoo, the sun had already risen, and Vince was now properly asleep. And Howard could tell something was most definitely up almost straight away. There were cars with 'Police' stamped across them in the car park, and people in matching uniforms were running around, talking into radios and trying to look important. There was also what appeared to be a news crew, complete with cameras and reporters. Howard nudged Vince anxiously, trying to get him to wake up.

"Ow!"

"Vince, look!"

He did so, peering out of his window, intrigued. The curiosity quickly turned to unease, however, as he turned to Howard with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

"What d'you think's going on?"

"I don't know. But it can't be good."

As they walked through the zoo, it became apparent that the chaos was even greater behind the gates. Half of the cages were empty, and men in brown uniforms were brandishing tranquilizer guns to round up the rest of the animals and boxing them up into crates. The other zookeepers, colleagues and friends that Howard and Vince had worked with for years, appeared to be in a state of panic. As they passed the reptile house, Mrs Gideon could be seen having a heated argument with one of the intruders, who was busy trying to coax Tony the Python into a box. Having no success, he instead pointed his gun and squeezed the trigger, causing the snake to fall still and lifeless.

Vince suddenly sank to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears and moaning in apparent pain. Howard watched, dumbstruck and more than a little concerned. He looked as though he was in agony.

"Vince?" He asked, alarmed. "Vince! Are you okay? What's going on?"

Vince raised his head to turn terrified blue eyes on Howard. "God… I can hear them all screaming, Howard… All the animals. It's horrible. What are they doing? Why won't they stop? Can't they see that they're hurting them? Stop! God, stop it!"

It was a cliché, but in that moment, for the first time ever, Howard truly realized that Vince's gift could also be a curse. Making up his mind, he seized the younger man by the arm and half-dragged, half-carried him to Naboo's kiosk, hoping that they might be able to find some answers there. Or that was the plan, anyway. When they arrived there, however, there was just an empty space where the stand had once been. The tiny shaman stood in front of it, looking as unaffected as ever.

"Where's your kiosk?" Howard asked, momentarily distracted as he drew to a breathless halt in front of the other man.

"In this box." Naboo replied in his usual deadpan tone.

"In that - never mind" Howard shook his head. "What's going on, Naboo?" He demanded.

"Haven't you heard? The zoo's being closed down. For good, this time."

"What?!" Howard practically shouted, reeling from the shock. "They can't do that! Can they?"

"We can't stop them. They've been watching this place for years now, but that incident with Ivan was the final straw. The schoolteacher contacted the Animal Welfare Officers, and now they're all coming in to take the animals to a better place."

Howard remained silent, unable to think of a reply. He couldn't believe that this was happening. The zoo had been his home for a sizeable portion of his life now, and although it maybe not everything that happened there was good, the place was magical. There was nowhere else like it in the world, he was quite sure of that.

"Well, what are you going to do?" He asked finally. He couldn't imagine there were that many jobs available for the Naboos of the world.

"Oh, I'm sorted. I've got a flat down in Dalston."

"Dalston?" Howard wrinkled his nose. "I wouldn't have thought that was a hotbed of shaman activity."

"You'd be surprised." was the enigma's only answer.

"Look, this is ridiculous." Howard muttered. "Where's Fossil? No, forget that - where's _Bainbridge_?"

"We don't know where Bainbridge is, nobody can find him. I heard someone say he chucked himself into the piranha tank. Fossil's locked up in his office, though - he won't come out to talk to anybody." Naboo unrolled what appeared to be a small rug and jumped on top of it. "Well, be seeing you, Harold."

"Yeah, it's Howard, actually." He pointed out in annoyance. It was somewhat pointless, however, as Naboo had already been carried up high into the sky on his flying carpet. Shaking his head, Howard turned to Vince, who was swaying slightly on the spot and rubbing his temples.

"Hey. How's the head?"

Vince looked up and offered a weak smile. "It's okay if I can push the pain to the back of my mind and focus on something else. Most of 'em have gone silent now, anyway." He added sadly.

Howard gripped Vince's shoulders tightly, forcing himself to take charge for once, a real man of action. "Listen to me now, Vince. Here's what I want you to do, okay? Go and wait for me in our hut. Lock yourself in; don't talk to anybody. I'm going to talk to Fossil. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay." Vince complied, too surprised by his friend's sudden assertiveness to do anything else. Howard released him, and he turned in the direction of their hut, stopping after he'd about three paces.

"Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

Howard looked at him and gave an odd sort of smile. "You too."

- - - - - X - - - - -

"Mr Fossil?" Howard rapped on the door anxiously. "Mr Fossil, are you in there? Open up."

No reply came from within his boss's quarters. Either Fossil had reverted back to the mental state of a particularly retarded child and was refusing to come out and face the music - more than likely - or he had already vacated the premises. Feeling his rather limited patience wearing thin, Howard tried the door handle - and was rather surprised when it actually opened, the door swinging forth on its hinges to reveal what lay beyond.

Fossil's office was empty, that much was clear to see. It was also a mess. Or, to be more accurate, it looked as though a bomb had hit it. Files were laying open on the floor, bits of paper strewn everywhere like oversized confetti. The phone was off its hook, the dial tone ringing out, which probably had something to do with the fact that the desk had been completely overturned, abandoned face-up in the middle of the room.

Howard sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. What to do now? He supposed the obvious thing to do would be to grab Vince and get out, before things got even uglier, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to do it. For all he had complained over the years, he couldn't think of working anywhere else other than the Zooniverse. And where would they live? For people like themselves, part of the appeal of working at the zoo was the free accommodation that came with the job. Without their little wooden shack, he and Vince would be back to living on the cold streets of London, spending the occasional night in a squat or a B&B where they could.

Unable to think of anything else he could do, he sighed once more and began walking back towards the hut in order to find Vince and discuss where they could go from here. Most of the animals, he saw, had now been boxed up into the wooden crates, and the few officials that remained were working at a much less frantic pace, talking calmly into their radios as though they weren't destroying someone's world. In fairness, a part of Howard reasoned, it wasn't really their fault. They were just doing their jobs. Unfortunately, the rest of him didn't particularly feel like being reasonable.

The now-former zookeeper felt his heart skip a beat when he arrived at the hut and realized that his now-former assistant was nowhere to be seen. From the looks of things, Vince had never even been here in the first place.

"Vince?" He called out nervously, peering around. Nothing.

"Vince?!" He repeated, louder this time. Still he got no reply. Panicked, he began running back through the winding passageways of the zoo, stopping several dazed-looking personnel along the way to ask whether they'd seen his errant friend. None of them had.

_Where are you, Vince? _He asked internally, struggling to keep his cool. It wasn't long before his question was answered.

"This what you're looking for?"

The cold, commanding sneer of Dixon Bainbridge rand out clearly across the courtyard. Feeling as though he was trapped in slow motion, Howard turned and saw the owner of the zoo standing a few metres away with Vince pulled flush to his body, one arm wrapped around the smaller man's throat. Instinctively, rage and fear boiling up inside him, Howard went to take a step forwards, but was stopped by a pair of arms grabbing him from behind and holding him in place. Fossil. Howard struggled, not having expected the intervention, but the chubby man was surprisingly strong, and held him firmly.

"Ah-ah." Bainbridge warned, his voice cutting through Howard like a thousand steel blades. He produced a pistol from somewhere - probably his moustache - and plugged it securely against Vince's temple. "Not another step, Moon. Or the little pimp gets it."

Vince put up a good fight, writhing and cursing and spitting all kinds of obscenities at Bainbridge, but the explorer was much stronger than he was, and simply pressed harder on his windpipe until he trailed off with a horrible choked gagging noise.

"Let him go!" Howard seethed, struggling like a man possessed against his captor. "I swear to God, if you hurt him, I'll -"

"You'll what?" Bainbridge challenged. "What exactly, do you propose to do in your current position, Moon? I warned you. I told you to toe the line and keep your _friend _here out of trouble. And what have the pair of you managed to achieve since then? You destroyed my book deal. You shirked your duties to go gallivanting off with girls from bands. And now you've managed to single-handedly initiate the closure of the zoo. Did you know that the police are waiting outside the gates at this very moment, baying for my blood? They want me to go to jail for a very long time. Well, I'm sorry, but that's just not going to happen. I'm not going down for this."

"You'll never get away with this, Bainbridge," Howard told him quietly, hoping the man would see sense. "You might as well just go and turn yourself in."

"Oh, I don't think so." The other man replied, an ugly expression painted across his face. "I _will _walk free, Moon. And what's more, your bitch is going to help me. Or I'll blow his pretty little brains out." He stroked the barrel of the gun down the side of Vince's face in a sickening pantomime of a lover's caress. Vince closed his eyes and whimpered pitifully. Howard felt ill watching.

"You bastard." He breathed. Bainbridge just laughed evilly.

"Take a good look at his face, Moon. It's the last time you'll ever be seeing it. I think that once we've escaped, I might just kill him anyway, and dump his body somewhere for the police to find. Or maybe I'll keep him on as a pet. I'm sure he'd come in quite handy…"

Bainbridge continued to talk, but Howard was no longer focusing on his words. Instead, he was watching Vince, who was in turn staring down at the floor, brow creased as if he was trying to work something out. Without warning, he suddenly looked up and caught Howard's eye, tipping him an unexpected wink and breaking into a dazzling grin. Howard frowned, but before he had time to question these events any further, Vince brought his knee up and rammed the heel of his cowboy boot into Bainbridge's groin. Hard.

Bainbridge howled in pain and instantly released his captive, doubling over in pain. Vince dropped to the floor on his hands and knees and began coughing harshly, struggling to draw breath. The gun, too, was sent clattering to the ground. In the confusion, Fossil's grip on Howard had weakened considerably, and Howard took the opportunity to do something he had always wanted to do - spin round and punch his former boss right in the flabby face. The other man crumpled to the ground right away, and lay there unmoving, moaning pathetically.

Howard didn't have time for him, however. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Bainbridge had picked up the gun again and was pointing it with deadly accuracy at Vince's head.

"Vince, look out!" Howard all but screamed, but the warning came too late. Bainbridge pulled the trigger, and Howard instinctively dove to the floor, covering his head with his hands as the deafening blast from the gunshot ricocheted all around. And then there was nothing but the loudest silence he'd ever heard.

Slowly, Howard raised his head, fearing what he'd see when he did. For some unfathomable reason, Bainbridge appeared to be unconscious, slumped motionless on the ground. But at that moment in time, Howard wasn't looking at him. Because Vince… Vince wasn't moving either. Howard watched with bated breath for what seemed like a lifetime, paralysed by shock and worry.

"Vince…?" He probed cautiously. His heart lifted and a huge smile broke out across his face when the younger man finally raised his head, peering around in bleary confusion. Regaining control of his limbs once more, Howard hurried over to him, checking him frantically for injuries.

"Oh my God, Vince, are you okay?" He babbled. "Are you hurt? Don't move."

"Get off, you nutter." Vince protested, pushing him away. "I'm fine. He didn't get me. See?" he held his arms out to demonstrate his lack of injury. Howard, however, saw this as an invitation to throw his arms around the other man's slight body and cling onto him as if he was never going to let go. He probably wouldn't have done, either, had it not been for the fact that Vince started making funny little choking noises and beating him on the shoulder.

"Time and place, yeah?" He reminded Howard breathlessly once he was released. Howard nodded, but still couldn't stop himself from grinning like an idiot. He had been so sure that Vince would be dead…

"What happened to 'im?" Vince asked, noticing Bainbridge's prone form for the first time.

Howard shrugged. "Dunno." On closer inspection, however, what appeared to be a tiny wooden dart could be seen sticking from the unconscious man's chest. Which could only mean one thing…

"Naboo!" Vince shouted by way of greeting, spotting the shaman hovering a few feet away on his magic carpet. "What're you doing back?"

"I forgot my keys." Naboo explained as he hopped off the rug, reaching into the pocket of his robes to pull out the offending item. All at once, the smile dropped from Vince's face as he turned back to Howard.

"What're we gonna do, Howard? We got nowhere to live!"

Howard shook his head. In the heat of the moment, he'd managed to forget about their problems, but it was all starting to come back to him now. Maybe he should have let Vince stay with Bryan Ferry after all. At least then he'd have somewhere to live…

"Well, as it happens," Naboo was saying, "My flat's got a couple of spare rooms. 'Course, you'd have to come up with some way of paying the rent…"

"Aw, cheers, Naboo, you're a diamond!" Vince gushed, beaming.

"Wait a second," Howard interjected, "What are we going to do about them?" He cast a glance down at Bainbridge and Fossil.

"Leave 'em there for the police to find." Naboo said, and for the first time ever, Howard could detect a note of real anger in his voice. "It's more than they deserve."

Then Vince did something which took everyone by surprise. He walked over to their former employer's lifeless body and aimed a vicious kick in its ribs. It made no sound, just flopped limply like a rag doll.

"I ain't anybody's bitch." Vince declared, staring defiantly back at the others. There was a slightly awkward pause in which Howard was sure he could hear crickets chirping somewhere. The silence was eventually broken by a pitiful sort of grunt from behind them as a familiar shape lumbered towards them.

"Bollo!" Vince squealed, throwing his arms around the gorilla. "What are you still doing here? I thought they would have taken you!"

Bollo shook his head sadly. "They forgot about me. Bollo last one left."

"Well, you can just come live with us. Can't he, Naboo?"

Naboo seemed reluctant to say anything.

"He's got nowhere else to live; he'll die otherwise!" Vince begged plaintively. "He'll be dead useful around the house, makin' cups of tea an' that -"

"Vince…" Howard broke in gently, not sure how to explain to his friend that a South London flat wasn't really the best place to keep an adult gorilla.

"Come on, Naboo!" Vince continued to wheedle, ignoring Howard completely. "Please?"

"Oh, all right, then!" Naboo gave in finally, rolling his eyes. "I'll train him up to be my new familiar; that old wombat has been getting a bit unreliable lately. You do realize this means you two'll have to share a room, don't you?" He added, eyeing Howard and Vince.

The two ex-zookeepers shared a glance. Howard raised his eyebrows. Vince raised his right back, then turned back to Naboo with a glowing smile.

"That's fine with us." He confirmed.

And Howard pretended to mind, but he didn't.

Not really.

- - - - - X - - - - -

SOME INDEFINABLE AMOUNT OF TIME LATER…

"… _world famous explorer Dixon Bainbridge has been sentenced to five years in jail today after the atrocities committed at his South London zoo were exposed last week. His associate and manager Robert Fossil was also facing charges of aiding and abetting criminal activities. However he was instead sectioned under the Mental Health Act after signs of severe mental instability became apparent during this morning's trial. Mrs Tatiana Gideon, Mr Joseph Moose, Mr Vincent Noir and Mr Harold Moon were just four of the former employees who turned up to testify against Bainbridge…"_

"It's _Howard _Moon, actually." Howard muttered at the newsreader as the TV began to show footage from the trial. But he didn't care. Not really. Justice had been served, and right now, that was all that really mattered.

More than anything, he was just glad that the trial was officially over and done with. It had been hard on everyone involved. For starters, it had been something of a shock to the system to see Vince in a suit - one that wasn't made of velvet, at any rate - but as it turned out, he scrubbed up surprisingly well, and he had been calm and composed when delivering his evidence. Howard was proud of him. And Bainbridge was finally getting what he deserved.

"Hey, Vince!" He shouted through the door as he spotted something on the screen. "Vince, come look - we're on TV!"

The bathroom door opened with a creak and Vince padded through dressed in his pyjamas, dripping wet from the shower. Howard turned to look at him - and his mouth dropped open, TV forgotten.

"Vince! Your hair!"

"What about it?"

"It's - it's changed colour!"

And it had. The too-long strands, falling into his eyes, were now completely jet black, shining slightly in almost iridescent way where they caught the light. Vince burst into a fit of spontaneous giggles and turned to admire his reflection in the mirror, casting an appraising eye over his new look.

"Yeah. New life. New start." He grinned and twirled a lock of wet hair around his finger. "New hair. D'you like it?" He asked suddenly, looking to Howard for approval. "I think I might grow it out a bit, as well."

"It suits you." Howard answered truthfully. Though in fairness, Vince was generally so stunning anyway that he could have dyed his hair purple and it would still suit him. "But…" He but his lip, afraid to voice his thoughts aloud. "I wish things didn't have to change, Vince."

"Yeah… me neither." Vince sighed, joining the older man on the sofa.

"I miss the zoo." Howard admitted. He never thought he'd be saying that once he was rid of the place, but it was true.

"And the animals..." Vince agreed, a wistful look in his eye.

"And our hut..."

"And Charlie…"

"And Gideon…"

"Millet distribution…"

"Porpoise races…"

"Yeah… Still, it'll be all right though, won't it?" Vince asked, changing tack suddenly. "I mean, we're free now, aren't we? We can do whatever we like, and there ain't nobody to stop us!"

"You do have a point there…" Howard conceded reluctantly.

Vince was clearly warming to his theme now, eyes sparkling with excitement. "We can start a band, Howard! I've always wanted to be in a band! It's won't be like last time, it'll be good, I promise - just you an' me. Oh, please can we start a band, Howard? Please? Pleasepleaseplease -?"

"Yeah. Okay."

Vince blinked, clearly not having expected to win his friend over quite so quickly. "Really?"

"Yeah. Why not? Like you said, we're free operators now. What's to stop us? Let's just take it one step at a time, though, yeah? There's no need to rush. We've got all the time in the world."

Vince grinned. "Oh, this is going to be genius, Howard! You just wait; one year down the line, people are going to know our names." His smile faded slightly as he saw that Howard was still frowning, unsure.

"Hey," Vince began softly, taking the other man's hand. "We _are _going to be okay, Howard. You an' me. As long as we're together, we'll be okay."

"You're right." Howard agreed. "We will be."

And as Vince smiled again and squeezed his hand, he couldn't help but smile back. Because for all his shallow pretences, Vince was not as stupid as he seemed. And he was right. Again.

As long as they were together, they would be okay.

* * *

**A/N: **Whew! Of course, this is a very important landmark in the story - the end of season one. I never thought I'd make it this far, so thanks to everyone who helped make it happen with your continuous and unfailing support. You know who you are. I will try and tone down the angst a bit for season two - it does seeem to be getting a little out of hand now - but having said that, 'Call of the Yeti' is next, which is quite a dark episode before I even touch it. So we'll see.

As for my other stories, I was originally planning to update them fairly soon, but I seem to have re-kindled my love affair with this fic, so I might just concentrate on this for now and put the others on hold 'till it's finished. I dunno. What do you think?

Thanks for reading, anyway.

-C.V. x


	9. Call of the Wild

**Author's Ramblings: **Firstly, an apology: I'm even more behind on reviews than I am on updates at the moment. I haven't had as much time as I would have liked to get on here and read all this lovely new stuff people had been posting, as I've been very busy with exams this past week. Fortunately, it seems to be coming to an end now - I've got one AS tomorrow, which is my last until the summer, so I will try to get caught up as quickly as possible. In the meantime, please bear with me - I'm not neglecting you, I swear! Further apologies go to Violence, to whom I promised this would be up about five days ago. I'm just gonna go hide now, 'kay?

More angst ahead, I'm afraid, guys. It's what I'm best at writing, so I figured that I should probably stick to my strengths. I have now changed the categories from romance/humour to romance/angst, however, so as not to mislead anyone. Also, I haven't had a chance to re-watch the episode yet, so forgive me if some of the stuff in this is a little innacurate. I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, to be honest. (This is where the author repeatedly bangs her head against the keyboard in frustration)

Song is 'Nancy Boy' by Placebo. Lyrics are in _italics, _as always. Dedicated to Beechwood, who succeeded in turning me into a certifiable Placebo nut. Thank you, darlin'!

Anyway. Onwards.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_'**Call of the Yeti' episode recap: **Howard and Vince are now living in a psychedelic and disordered flat in South London, along with Naboo and Bollo. The foursome are heading out on a camping trip, meticulously organized by Howard, who is somewhat annoyed when the others fail to stick to his plans. Vince in particular is unable to grasp the concept of 'packing light' and finds it difficult to choose items from his extensive wardrobe._

_Sometime later, they arrive at a ramshackle cabin in the heart of an ominous forest, much to Vince's distaste and Howard's excitement. When Howard begins a lecture on nature and the outdoors, Naboo and Bollo are unable to take anymore and make a hasty getaway to 'Shamansbury's'. Vince begs them to take him along, but Naboo insists that he stay with Howard. As Howard continues his talk on the life-cycle of the frog, the owner of the cabin, a hardened yokel by the name of Kodiak Jack appears. As well as appearing borderline psychotic, Kodiak Jack seems to have more than a passing interest in Vince, and attempts to bribe Howard into leaving him alone with the younger man. At first Howard refuses, but when Kodiak Jack offers him the chance to photograph the legendary Yeti, the temptation is too much, and Howard reluctantly makes the deal._

_Meanwhile, Naboo and Bollo bump into an old friend at the counter of Shamansbury's, a fellow shaman by the name of Barry. Barry warns Naboo to stay away from Piney Ridge - it is the mating season of the Yeti, and they will attempt to have their way with any poor innocent male who wanders into their path._

_Vince is alone at the cabin when Kodiak Jack returns and begins to make unwanted advances. When the woodsman attempts to rape him, Vince fights him off with the help of Nicky Clarke hair straighteners. A shocked Naboo and Bollo walk in on the scene, demanding to know where Howard is. When Vince reveals that the missing member of their group has gone down to Piney Ridge to look for the Yeti, they realize that he may be in trouble._

_When they eventually found Howard, he appears to be living in harmony with the Yetis and claims to have found his true home in the forest. He sings a song, and one by one the others all succumb to the hippy nonsense, entering into a trance-like state. When they come out of it, it is to find themselves spread out on a gigantic bed. The Queen Yeti appears, intending to mate with them, but Kodiak Jack arrives just in time to save their lives. The Yetis turn on him and the gang take this opportunity to flee. They are chased by the Queen Yeti back to the cabin, where she steps on Vince's overstuffed suitcase and is shot through the roof as it explodes, unable to take the strain._

**Call of the Wild**

Howard looked across at Vince uneasily, studying his profile before pretending to turn his attention back to the documentary they were watching on French cheese. Inside though, he was in turmoil. It was just over forty-eight hours since their return from the camping trip, and Howard felt as though the guilt he was feeling from his actions was so obvious, he might as well have had a neon sign hanging over his head, for all the difference it would have made. His own words repeated themselves in his head on a permanent loop, preventing him from sleeping at night and occupying his thoughts all day.

_"I couldn't do that to Vince; he's my friend."_

_"Then I guess you don't want to see the one and only… the legendary Yeti."_

_"How long do you need him for?"_

_"I couldn't do that to Vince; he's my friend."_

_"… He's my friend…"_

_"…My friend…"_

_"… the legendary Yeti."_

_"How long do you need him for?"_

_"How long do you need him for?"_

On and on and on, over and over like some damned stuck record that wouldn't be turned off. True, he hadn't really been thinking about the consequences at the time, he was so focused on his goal, but in some ways, that made everything worse. The reality of it was that he had been prepared to sell Vince down the river for a few cheap photographs. He'd been perfectly willing - content, even - to leave his best friend alone with a rapist while he went hunting for his own fame. He'd made a bargain with the devil, and now he was paying the price for it. He remembered a time not so long ago when he had been terrified that Bainbridge had wanted to hurt Vince, and vowing that he would do everything in his power to protect his friend. When had all that changed? When had he stopped caring?

"Howard? Howard, hello? Anybody in there?"

Howard started as the younger man's voice penetrated his blanket of self-pity, not having been aware that Vince was speaking. "What?" He snapped, slightly harsher than he meant to.

Vince backed off, looking slightly affronted. "Howard, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes. Have I grown an extra head or something?"

"No… No, only the one head."

"What, then?"

Oh, it would be so easy to tell him, to just let all of his guilty little secrets come tumbling out, to release his burden. Only problem was, if he did, Vince would never speak to him again. And it wasn't as if anything had actually happened, was it? Vince was fine; he'd fought his way out of a difficult situation unscathed, just like always, and was none the wiser about Howard's involvement. As far as he could tell, the close shave hadn't affected Vince at all. No, it would be better for everyone involved if Howard just kept his thoughts to himself. What Vince didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"It's nothing. Honestly." He said, tacking a bright, cheery, one hundred percent fake smile on his face.

Vince's eyes narrowed. "Fine." He muttered, getting up off the sofa and striding over to the door.

"Where are you going?" Howard called after him, confused. He was angry; that much was obvious from his body language and short, monosyllabic answers. It was the reason for his anger that escaped Howard.

"Out."

"You're _always_ going out. Ever since we left the zoo, you've been going out practically every night. Can't you just stay in and watch this with me for a change?" Did that really sound as pathetic and desperate as he thought it did?

"Not until you start being honest with me, Howard." Vince bit out each and every word like it caused him physical pain to do so, then turned on his heel and stormed down the stairs. Thirty seconds later, Howard heard the front door slam, leaving him alone once again to wallow in his feelings of guilt and wonder whether he was doing the right thing.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Over the past few weeks of living in Dalston, Vince had become well-acquainted with the social scene, and this particular club wasn't one that he would normally expect to find himself in. It was garish at best, bordering on tacky, and the whole feel of it was as if it was trying too hard to be cool, and failing miserably. The types who filled it were down-and-outs, no-hopers, people looking to drown their sorrows in double strength vodka. And now Vince was one of them. He was there to forget who he was for a while, forget Howard and the never-ending gap that seemed to be opening up between them.

Basically, he was there to get wasted.

Because unfortunately, he knew exactly what Howard's problem was, why he was acting so shifty all of a sudden. Unbeknownst to the other man, Vince had overheard his conversation with Kodiak Jack in the minutest of details. And he knew what Howard had done. He didn't know what was worse, really, the feelings of betrayal that his supposed friend had been willing to hand him over to a certifiable maniac in exchange for his fifteen minutes of fame, or the anger that Howard wouldn't even own up to his mistakes. Right at that precise moment in time, he didn't exactly care, either. All he cared about was getting drunk, and the fact that his flirtini didn't seem to be doing the job fast enough.

"Hey, there." A rough, smoke-ravaged voice invaded his consciousness. "I got you somethin' a little stronger. Hope you don't mind, but it looks like you could use it."

Vince half-turned to see a woman sliding into the barstool next to him, wearing a dress that was just short of being indecent. Dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in matted clumps, and her face was coated in smudged make-up that stood out starkly against her pale skin, skin that looked almost transparent under the harsh lighting. As she sat down, she placed a shot glass unceremoniously on the counter in front of him.

"Thanks." Vince said dully, swirling the glass around on the surface and making patterns in the spilt liquid.

"What's your name?" The woman asked, innocently enough. Vince was well aware what she was trying to do, however, he wasn't _that_ naïve. Get him drunk for a mindless shag, seeking comfort in another lost soul who was as bitter and desperate and angry as she was. Trouble was, he wasn't entirely sure he cared. A little meaningless sex could be good, a respite from the troubling thoughts currently occupying his mind. An excuse to lose himself for a while. He supposed she was okay looking, in sickeningly stereotypical glamour model type way. Not his usual type, but then, he wasn't looking to date her, was he?

"Vince." He said finally in answer to her question, before downing the shot in one go in the hopes that she might look a bit more attractive if he was pissed.

"Well, Vince, you look like you've got a lot on your mind. I'm Marilyn, by the way."

"Cool. As in Monroe." _Or Manson,_ he added in his head before he could stop himself. It was like having internal Tourette's; he would think the most awful things about complete strangers without even meaning to. Anything to reassure himself that he was better than they were.

"Well, I ain't much of a film star, am I?" Marilyn asked wryly, a self-deprecating smile twisting her features. "So tell me; who is she?"

Vince wrinkled his nose in confusion. "She?"

"Oh come on, Vince, don't play that game with me. You're a good-looking young guy, and yet you're sitting here alone at a bar, trying to drink yourself senseless." As if on cue, the bartender slapped two more shot glasses down in front of them. Vince couldn't even remember ordering them. "There's gotta be a 'she' in the equation somewhere."

"Oh." Vince pondered this for a second before slamming his shot down, wincing as it burned the back of his throat. "Well, there's no 'she' this time. It's a 'he'."

Marilyn arched one eyebrow in an expression that was halfway between amused and surprised, and Vince blushed slightly as he realized what she was insinuating, and how his confession must have sounded.

"Not like that!" He blurted out hastily, his words slurring together. "It's my flatmate, Howard." _Flatmate?_ That was such a cold word, there was no emotion in being someone's 'flatmate'. Whatever happened to 'friend'? "I thought that I could trust him, but he went and did something behind my back, something that… _hurt_ me. And I want to forgive him, I really do, but… what he did was pretty unforgivable."

"All right, so you don't want to tell me." Marilyn said, still looking skeptical but not particularly bothered. "It's fine; I get it. You didn't come here to talk about your problems, you came here to forget them. I can relate to that."

She leaned back and crossed her legs as yet another round of shots were placed in front of them, and Vince's eyes drifted down without his consent to stare as the motion revealed even more of her fishnet-clad thighs. He managed to tear his gaze away with a great effort to look back at her face, and saw that she was smirking in a knowing way. To break the tension, he swallowed down his next shot, acutely aware that he was now past the 'tipsy' stage and dangerously close to being utterly smashed. As this thought crossed his mind, the vaguely familiar strains of some forgotten song started up, and Marilyn stroked one red-taloned hand up his arm, cleavage spilling out of the top of her dress as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Wanna dance?"

Vince blinked in surprise, finding the notion so absurd that he burst into helpless laughter. "Fuck, I can barely even stand straight, how do expect me to -?"

"You'll be fine, just follow me." She slipped off her stool, wobbling slightly in her stiletto heels, and took hold of his hand, pulling him out into the crowded dance floor. Once he was there and the world had stopped spinning, Vince found that he was able to find some kind of rhythm as the heat from Marilyn's body and the crooning voice of the singer filled his senses.

_Alcoholic kinda mood,  
Lose my clothes, lose my lube,  
Cruising for a piece of fun,  
Looking out for number one._

Even in his current state, Vince was able to appreciate the irony that the lyrics matched his situation almost exactly.

"Hey."

Marilyn placed two fingers under his chin and tilted his head up to look at her, and it suddenly occurred to him how she was much taller than him in her heels.

"Don't think; just feel."

_Different partner every night,  
So narcotic, outta sight,  
What a gas; what a beautiful ass._

Vince felt wrong; that was the only word he could think of to describe it. His head was pounding, and he was in the arms of some girl, some girl he didn't even know, who would use him and then ditch him and then tomorrow he would wake up feeling ten times worse than he did now. The speed and intensity of the dancing increased, bodies intertwined and hips grinding together aggressively. Marilyn suddenly pressed her lips onto his, and he felt a brief rush of panic, reminded of the cabin in the woods, Kodiak Jack bearing down on him and invading his space.

_Don't think; just feel,_ he told himself firmly, and surrendered himself completely to the music.

_And it all breaks down at the role reversal,  
Got the muse in my head, she's universal,  
Spinnin' me round; she's coming over me,  
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,  
Got the muse in my head, she's universal,  
Spinnin' me round; she's coming over me._

Now she was grabbing him by the hand again and pulling him towards the bathrooms. Vince followed along mindlessly, a slave to his own desire. He no longer cared about the ramifications, he just wanted to forget everything. This was what he needed; pure physical pleasure, no strings attached. And it wasn't as though he was taking advantage, he told himself. No, this was a mutual benefit deal. They would _both_ be getting something from this little encounter.

_Kind of buzz that lasts for days,  
Had some help from insect ways  
Comes across all shy and coy;  
Just another nancy boy._

Vince didn't take note of whether it was the male or female bathrooms they barged into; he was just thankful there was no-one else in there. He caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror before he was shoved into a cubicle, and winced at what he saw there. Smeared eyeliner - his. Smeared lipstick - definitely not his. He looked like a woman. Worse than that, he looked like a prostitute, the dregs of society. His new hair suited him, he decided - black hair, black heart, the kind of person who didn't give a shit about anyone but himself. Only he wasn't that person, was he? No matter how much he might want to be, he could _never_ be that person. Because he _did_ care, almost too much. That was the reason he was here in the first place, really, because he cared too much.

_Woman man or modern monkey,  
Just another happy junkie,  
Fifty pounds, press my button,  
Going down…_

He was now dimly aware of Marilyn opening her handbag and taking out something that resembled an envelope and two straws. She handed one of the straws to Vince and tipped out the contents of the envelope onto the closed lid of the toilet. A mound of white powder trickled forth like sand through an hourglass, and he suddenly felt sick as the notion of what she was doing hit him.

"I can't…" He said numbly, cursing himself all kinds of an idiot for being so blind.

"Come on, it's easy. It'll make everything better…" She leaned over as if to demonstrate, sucking the drug up through the straw with greedy snorting noises, and images flashed on rapid-fire through Vince's head; the man who came to his parents' house when he was eight years old; his mother lying dead in the bath, floating in the bloodied water as he tried desperately to bring her back to life; his father saying sorry to him at her funeral before handing him over to Bryan Ferry. All the destruction brought about by this seemingly innocuous white powder.

Suddenly, all he wanted to was to get home to safety and security and Howard, and he hastily unbolted the door and ran from the club without looking back.

_And it all breaks down at the role reversal,  
Got the muse in my head, she's universal,  
Spinnin' me round; she's coming over me,  
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,  
Got the muse in my head, she's universal,  
Spinnin' me round; she's coming over me._

Vince staggered out into the street and clung onto a wall for support, willing himself not to be sick. When he felt as though he could move without falling over, he hurried away in what he hoped was the general direction of the flat, suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he really didn't know the area very well at all.

_Does his make-up in his room,  
Douse himself in cheap perfume,  
Eyeholes in a paper bag;  
Greatest lay I ever had._

"Oi, love!" An obnoxious, drunken voice shouted. "How much do you charge?!"

Vince ignored the chav, quickening his pace nonetheless. He wondered in his semi-drunken state when things had started to change; when he started to feel it was necessary to smother himself in a mask of carefully applied make-up and lies, so that no-one would ever find out who the real Vince Noir was. He supposed that, with leaving the zoo, he'd felt the need to begin a new life, but it was going too far now. Much too far. Going out and getting smashed every night, sleeping with faceless strangers, he barely recognized who he was anymore.

God, he missed the zoo. He missed Howard, being able to talk to his best friend. He would give anything to go back to those easy days of ignorant bliss. Sure, they'd had their problems, but it had been heaven compared to this miserable existence.

_Kind of guy who mates for life,  
Gotta help him find a wife,  
We're a couple, when our bodies double._

He practically sobbed in relief when he found himself on the doorstep of the flat, with its bright, cheerful sign advertising Naboo's shop. Good thing the shaman himself was away, or he'd probably evict Vince on the spot, having him come home in such a state. He didn't want to be like this any more, he just wanted to be normal, to find someone that he really liked being with. Oddly enough, it was Howard's face that came to mind when he had that thought. He blamed it on the alcohol.

_And it all breaks down at the role reversal,  
Got the muse in my head, she's universal,  
Spinnin' me round; she's coming over me,  
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,  
Got the muse in my head, she's universal,  
Spinnin' me round; she's coming over me._

- - - - - X - - - - -

Vince was drunk.

Again.

Howard could tell the moment he heard the front door close downstairs, uneven footsteps marching through the shop. Bang, bang, bang, crash, crash up the stairs, slam through the door.

"H'ward? You awake?"

Howard really wanted to keep up with his fake sleeping act, but for some reason, he just couldn't. Maybe it was the sheer, pathetic desperation he could pick up in the other man's voice, but something was telling him that his friend was in need, and Howard more than owed it to him to help. Even though he _hated_ when Vince got like this.

_Maybe if you hadn't driven him to drink…_ A traitorous voice in his head whispered. Aloud, he said,

"Yeah, I'm awake. You okay there, little man?"

"Yeah. Um, I was… I was wonderin'… could I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Howard frowned in confusion. He could barely see Vince in the gloom, so couldn't read his expression to try and tell what the hell he was on about. "What, you want to swap?"

"No, I mean… could I sleep in your bed… with you in it?"

"Oh. Oh! Yeah, come on in, there's plenty of room." Well he couldn't exactly say no, could he?

The strong and faintly disgusting smell of alcohol hit Howard as Vince climbed in next to him, but aside from that, it was kind of… nice. He was mainly just glad that Vince was willing to speak to him after their argument earlier. Whether or not Vince knew exactly what it was that Howard had done remained to be seen, but _Howard_ knew, and that was enough.

"… Howard…?" His voice sounded so small and needy.

"Yeah?"

"Could you… hold me?"

Howard tilted his head in surprise at the forward request, wondering whether he'd heard right. Then he gathered Vince's small body up into his arms like a doll, allowing himself a few seconds to fuss and worry over how thin he was getting.

"Better?" He asked in a soft voice that he surprised even himself with.

"Much."

"Good. You gonna tell me what all this is about now?"

"Nope. Doesn't matter, anyway. I love you, Howard, did you know that? And I hate you. 'Cause I know what you did, see. But I love you more. Isn't that weird?…"

Vince's babbling slowly died down as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, but Howard was left lying awake in the dark for many more hours, sensing the rift between himself and Vince grow even wider and at the same time feeling a new one beginning to crack open… this time in the vicinity of his heart.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. I did warn you. And I'm struggling for something terribly cutting and witty to say here, but I'm really tired, so I think I'll just call it a night instead...


	10. Splintering

**Author's Ramblings: **Right, here we are again. And I really am sorry that this has taken so long to update. The good news is, my exams are over now, so hopefully we can get back to regular(ish) updates.

I won't lie to you, I'm not particularly happy with how this chapter turned out, but as some of you may know, I've been going through a bit of a 'wobbly patch' recently and have only just rediscovered the inspiration to write. So I'm just sort of easing myself back into it.

This actually has very little to do with the episode, but oh well. The lyrics used are 'Call Me When You're Sober' by Evanescence, cause it seemed to fit, though I didn't use the whole song and it's in kind of a mixed up order.

Dedicated to Julia (northernbullet), Hattie (violence4) and Emily (Beechwood0708) for all the love and support over on LJ. Thanks, guys!

- - - - - X - - - - -

_**The Priest and The Beast' episode recap: **__Vince and Howard are working to further their music careers, but things aren't going as well as they'd hoped. In order to stop them from keeping him up at night, Naboo tells the pair a story of a band who had been in a similar position; 'The Bongo Brothers', otherwise known as Rudi Van DiSarnio and Spider Dijon._

_Like Howard and Vince, they were best friends with very obvious differences between them - Rudi was a holy priest in the order of the psychedelic monks, while spider was a caveman-like being with nymphomaniac tendencies. When they found their success as musicians failing, they headed off into the wilderness to find the 'new sound'. _

_Though this made for an interesting story, it doesn't help Howard and Vince in anyway, and they go for their meeting with the record execs armed with only one of Naboo's shamanistic concoctions - which he later admits to Bollo is only Lucozade._

**Splintering**

_You never call me when you're sober  
__You only want it cause it's over  
__It's over_

Howard sighed and slumped down on the bed, cradling his weary head in his hands. What a day it had been. The record execs had been less than impressed by he and Vince, to put it mildly. Actually, they'd been laughed out of the building. And to make matters worse, Vince had pulled one of his famous disappearing acts as soon as they'd gotten home, muttering something about meeting Leroy and then vanishing with a flash of silver into the night, leaving Howard alone to dwell on his thoughts.

He let his gaze idly wander over to Vince's side of the small bedroom, the bright, colourful posters adorning the walls providing a stark contrast to his own blank corner. It was somewhat ironic that such a crowded living space was almost permanently empty. They'd been in the flat for long enough now that it seemed like a lifetime, and he could still count the number of time Vince had actually slept there on his fingers. Howard didn't really like to think of what the younger man was doing during those times the bed was empty, though the fact that he always returned with a bad head and a worse temper gave him a fair idea.

Over in the living room, the trilling of the phone started up faintly. Howard ignored it, not in the mood to speak to any double-glazing agents. After about the fiftieth ring, however, he got up with an irritated growl and stalked to the other room to see Naboo and Bollo sharing a hookah not five feet from the table with the phone on.

"I'll get that then, shall I?" He snapped sarcastically.

"Cheers, Howard." Naboo replied through the thick haze of smoke.

Howard simply rolled his eyes in response before wrenching the phone off the hook. "What?" He snarled into it.

"Heeeyyy, Howard!" A dopey, much-hated, and all-too-familiar voice shouted down the line. "What's up, man?"

"Hello, Leroy." Howard replied flatly, resisting the urge to hurl the receiver across the room. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, the thing is, yeah, you know Vince, well, he's like, totally out of it, so maybe you can come and, like, get him in your car or something?"

Howard winced at the shameful massacring of the English language, holding the phone out at arms' length so as not to have Leroy's ten-thousand decibel voice permanently damage his eardrums. Unfortunately, the sentence wasn't so mangled that he couldn't understand the gist of it.

"Look, I'm not Vince's personal chauffeur. Can't he get a taxi or something? It's the middle of the bloody night!" Okay, so it was half-nine, but that was beside the point.

"Cool, see you in ten minutes then, yeah?" Leroy hollered, clearly choosing to ignore that last remark. "Cheers, dude!" Then the phone went dead.

Howard hung his head resignedly, taking several deep breaths and squeezing the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he felt sure was just on the horizon. Then he got his coat, slipped his shoes on, and headed out the door to cater to Vince's every beck and call.

Just like always.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_Should I let you fall?  
__Lose it all?  
__So maybe you can remember yourself  
__Can't keep believing, we're only deceiving  
__Ourselves and I'm sick of the lie  
__And you're too late_

Vince was ridiculously easy to spot as Howard pulled up outside the club, dressed from head to toe in a migraine-inducing rainbow of colours and swaying precariously with his arm around Leroy's neck. Leroy's face, for some reason Howard couldn't quite fathom, was completely obscured from view with a pair of ridiculous polarized sunglasses and a hooded jacket.

"Howard!" Vince exclaimed as soon as he caught sight of the other man. "Wha'are you doin' ere?"

"Come to take you home. I'll take it from here, Leroy." That last sentence was thrown as a sharp aside towards Vince's friend, who remained oblivious as ever.

"Cool. See ya later, Vince." And he bobbed back into the club.

"Howard… what are you doing?" Vince slurred, tottering in his impractical shoes.

"I told you, I'm taking you home." Howard snapped, putting his arm under the younger man to stop him from falling flat on his face all the same.

"I don't _want _to go home!" Vince protested, sounding like a spoilt child. "I'm having fun."

"Yeah, well, life isn't always about fun. People who have fun end up getting themselves killed."

With that last melancholy thought, he all but shoved Vince into the passenger seat of the car. The drive home was long, awkward and silent, with Howard concentrating so hard on the road it was a wonder he didn't set it on fire, and Vince staring fixedly out of the window. When they finally arrived at their destination, Howard couldn't help but notice that Vince was incredibly pale, paler even than usual.

"Urgh, Howard… I think I'm gonna be -"

Howard leapt into action and steered him into the bathroom just in time, wincing as he heard the sounds of retching and vomit splattering the sides of the toilet bowl. Couldn't Vince see what he was doing to himself? Yes, he was beautiful to look at, but there was absolutely nothing attractive about him when he was like this. Actually, Howard observed as the other man re-emerged from the bathroom, he _didn't _even look that good right now, all smudged make-up, matted hair and bloodshot eyes, skin almost translucent with blue veins pulsing rapidly beneath the surface.

They locked gazes for a moment, Vince's expression pathetically pleading and Howard's stern and unforgiving, before Howard turned his back. It felt awful, but it was the only way he could express his disgust. He could barely even stand to look at Vince right now. The silence stretched on for a few more seconds before Vince gave in and went to bed, stumbling a little on the way.

Howard was about to follow him when something caught his eye, an old photograph on the coffee table. He picked it up and examined it carefully, noticing the way he and Vince seemed so relaxed and carefree, standing in their green zookeepers' jackets with their arms around one another, grinning like absolute idiots.

_What happened? _He found himself asking. Then he shook his head and put the picture down again, following Vince into the bedroom with a heavy sigh. It was no use crying over spilt milk, after all. What was done was done, and they were just going to have to try and deal with it, for better or for worse.

Unsurprisingly, the endless array of clichés did little to make Howard feel better.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_Couldn't take the blame  
__Sick with shame  
__Must be exhausting to lose your own game  
__Selfishly hated, no wonder you're jaded  
__You can't play the victim this time  
__And you're too late_

"You have to stop doing this, Vince." Howard half-warned, half-pleaded the following night when Vince was preparing to go out yet _again._

"I don't see how it's any of your business what I do." Vince replied coolly, not even bothering to look up at the older man.

"You don't -? You selfish, conceited little bastard!" Just this once, Howard allowed his anger to get the better of him. And God, did it feel good. "After everything I've done for you! I held your hair back when you were sick. I stayed up with you when you couldn't sleep. I pulled you out of school, found you a job-"

"Yeah, is there a point to this?"

"I stood up for you when people said you were nothing but a stupid, shallow bitch, because I really thought there was something more to you. But now I realize how completely wrong I was. They were right, you really _are _just a stupid, shallow bitch."

For a second, an expression which might have been hurt infiltrated Vince's mask of utter calm. Then it was gone, and it was as though shutters were being pulled down behind his eyes.

"Sticks and stones, Howard."

"There is absolutely nothing remotely interesting or unique about you. You're like a balloon."

"A balloon?" Vince parroted, arching one eyebrow as if to say 'is that the best you can do?'

"Yeah - pretty to look at, but full of nothing but air on the inside!" Was it his imagination, or had he just called Vince 'pretty'?

"Well, if I'm that bad, you won't mind getting rid of me for an evening, will you?"

"Fine!" Howard practically screamed. "You go out, get drunk with your stupid mates. Just don't come crying to me when they ditch you, or when you end up lying in a gutter somewhere. I won't come running to collect you. I'm not going to be your fall-guy anymore, Vince."

"Whatever. It may come as a surprise to you, Howard, but I don't need a freak like you hanging around all the time, anyway." With that, he turned and stalked out of the door, slamming it so hard behind him that the hinges rattled. With a muted scream of frustration, Howard picked up the TV remote and hurled it across the room, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction as it hit the wall where Vince's head had been seconds before.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_How could I have burned paradise?  
__How could I - you were never mine!_

Howard was just beginning to drift to sleep again when Vince returned, soaking wet from the rain outside. He hovered uncertainly by the side of Howard's bed for a few moments, as though wanting to say something but not knowing how, before sighing heavily and collapsing on his own mattress.

"Howard… I'm sorry." His voice was curiously clear and sober, which was at least something.

"No, you're not." Howard replied matter-of-factly, rolling over to look at the other man. "You're not sorry, Vince. You're never _sorry_. You're guilty. There's a difference."

Vince bit his lip, blue eyes widening to massive proportions. "I _am _sorry, though. I shouldn't have said some - a lot - of the things I said to you."

Howard didn't say anything.

"I - I haven't been drinking. I went for a walk. To clear my head."

The absence of noise whenever Vince stopped speaking seemed louder than any sound could be.

"Howard, aren't you gonna say anything?"

"What do you _want _me to say, Vince?" Howard demanded finally. "What do you want me to do? Tell you you're a good boy and give you a pat on the head? You're not a child."

"I thought you'd be pleased." Vince admitted quietly.

"It's not up to me, it's up to you. If you really want to be a better person, you have to do it for yourself, not me or anyone else. Because no-one else is going to help you anymore."

"But I don't know how."

"You're good at thinking about yourself, Vince. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

That said, he rolled over again and closed his eyes in a vain attempt to go to sleep, trying without success to block out the muffled sounds of what could have been someone sobbing into their pillow.

_So don't cry to me  
__If you loved me  
__You would be here with me  
__Don't lie to me  
__Just get your things  
__I've made up your mind_

* * *

**A/N: **I actually can't think of anything to say right now, other than shamelessly begging for reviews. But I'm not going to do that.


	11. Perspectives

**Author's Ramblings: **No matter how many times I seem to apologize for updating this so infrequently, it always seems to take me forever to get my arse into gear and post the next chapter. So, sorry again.

If I'm honest, I'm really not happy with this, but it's the best I could do for the moment. It's also - randomly - in first person POV, cause I felt like a change. It's more like a stream of conciousness than anything else.

* * *

'_**Nanageddon' episode recap: **__Vince floors Howard's plans for a quiet night in with the Jazz Club by announcing he's invited over two girls he met in the Black Spider. Howard is reluctant at first, but quickly agrees when Vince promises to get him in on the action. There is one problem, however - the girls are Goths, and unlikely to take to Howard's appearance._

_In order to make Howard look a bit darker, Vince lends him some clothes and unleashes his secret weapon - 'Goth Juice', the most powerful hairspray known to man, is made from the tears of Robert Smith and can hold a satsuma in mid-air. While Howard gets himself ready, Vince has a favour to ask of Naboo - in a moment of drunken rashness, he told the girls he was a warlock, and now they are expecting him to perform some magic. Naboo reluctantly lends him a book of beige magic, and warns him to stay away from the darker material._

_The girls arrive, and Howard fails to impress them with his jokes and attempts at being dark. Finding the beige magic less than satisfactory, Vince steals the black magic book instead despite Naboo's warnings. When all he manages to do is summon up an old lady, the girls leave in disgust. Vince and Howard go to follow them, but when they return to the flat, they find the old woman has disappeared, taking the book with her._

_Naboo and Bollo arrive home from an evening of DJ-ing, and Vince is forced to admit his mistake. Naboo is horrified, and reveals that the old woman is Nanatoo, the most dangerous demon in existence. He predicts that Nanageddon is fast approaching - and the only way to stop it is in the missing book. He goes to the mysterious Board of Shamen for help, only to have his powers revoked as punishment for losing the book._

_When Naboo returns to the flat a drunken wreck, Howard and Vince vow to find the book, avert the catastrophe and get Naboo's powers back. The pair dress up as old women and head for a nearby bingo hall in the hopes of finding Nanatoo there. Upon seeing that first prize is a pair of boots, however, Vince becomes intent on winning the game._

_Meanwhile, two of the other Shamen have been sent to retrieve the book - the bitterly sarcastic Saboo and a disembodied pink head with tentacles named Tony Harrison. After getting lost several times, Saboo becomes so frustrated with Harrison that he pushes him off the magic carpet._

_Back at the bingo hall, Howard spots the demon at a nearby table and sneaks over to retrieve the book. He succeeds, but bumps into Saboo - also in disguise - on the way back. The pair fight over the book, but attention is drawn to them when Vince scores full house. Nanatoo traps Saboo with her knitting and throws her needles at him. He falls to the floor, presumably dead (though he inexplicably returns in several later episodes, but that's entirely beside the point)._

_Vince and Howard flee with the book while all hell breaks loose around them. Nanatoo follows them into the flat and ensnares them with her knitting. She prepares to kill them, but Vince spots the 'Goth Juice' hairspray at the last minute and freezes the needles in midair. Naboo recites an incantation from the book, and the demon disappears._

_At the end of the episode, Vince and Howard are back in their Goth gear, and feature on the cover shot of 'Goth Weekly' magazine. The two girls return, but, much to the boys' dismay, set off on a date with Naboo and Bollo._

**Perspectives**

_**Vince**_

Sometimes, I wonder about this supposedly charmed life I'm meant to lead. I really do.

I screwed up the other week. Again. The whole thing was entirely my fault, I know that. If I hadn't been messing around, trying to impress those girls, I wouldn't have borrowed (okay - stolen), the Book from Naboo. Naboo wouldn't have gotten his powers taken away, and the world wouldn't have almost been destroyed.

Or maybe it goes deeper than that. Maybe, if I wasn't an alcoholic, I wouldn't have been in the club, and I never would have met the girls in the first place.

Okay, maybe 'alcoholic' is too strong a word. I'm not _that _far gone. Not yet, anyway. I could stop drinking any time I want to. But I _don't _want to. It's fun.

Everything's so much more fun when you're drunk.

At least one good thing came out of the whole sodding fiasco: I now know that Howard looks pretty damn good as a Goth. _Hot, _even. There's a word I never thought I'd use to describe the jazzy freak, but there was no denying it when he was stood there dressed to the nines in my gear and all done up like a moustached Robert Smith. I did myself proud, I think.

Well. At least until he managed to rip a bloody big hole in my trousers.

And that reminds me, actually, he can pay me back for those, they didn't come cheap. They were one-of-a-kind, too, totally unique. Hand-made by magic stoats, according to the girl who sold me them. Then again, she had a wooden leg, so maybe she's not to be _totally _trusted. She did give me her number, though.

We're getting a bit off-topic, here.

The point is, I know that I was entirely to blame for what happened. I know that. So why, then, once the whole thing was over and the high from getting out of it alive had faded, did I shout at Howard, tell him exactly _how _and _why _it was him who'd fucked up, and then storm out for the rest of the evening?

Stupid question. I know why. It's because of my pride. It always is. I'm too damn proud and stubborn to accept when something's my fault. I hate the thought of being humiliated. It'll be on my gravestone one day, that:

_Here lies Vince Noir:  
__He died of embarrassment._

I know Howard thinks I went to get smashed when I left that night. But I didn't. I wasn't in the mood. Instead, I did something I hadn't done in a very long time.

I went to visit my mother's grave.

I always feel a bit weird, walking into the cemetery. For one thing, it's got this strained air of trying to be 'quiet' and 'respectful', like in a library. Or how I'd imagine a library would be, anyway; I don't make it a habit to visit them too often. And it always freaks me out slightly, the thought that there's hundreds and hundreds of dead people buried beneath my feet.

Not to mention the fact that everyone turns to glare at me the minute I walk in, like they expect some great bolt of lightning to fall from the sky and strike me down for having the nerve to show up in glittery hats and cowboy boots. Too bad - that's just who I am, and it ain't gonna change any time soon.

The grave itself was exactly as I remembered it, just a little more crumbly around the edges. But it's the same simple headstone engraved with the few meaningless words: _'Delilah Noir, beloved girlfriend and mother, sorely missed'._

That's the thing though, ain't it? It sounds awful, but I don't miss 'er, I never did. Well, okay, maybe I did a bit at first, when I was living with Bryan Ferry. But even when she was alive, we didn't exactly have the best of relationships, 'specially towards the end. And by the time I came back to London, I'd just sort of… moved on. That's the first thing I did actually, when I got back here; bought (okay - stole) some flowers and went down to the cemetery. I remember sitting in front of the grave for ages, desperate to feel something, but all I felt was… numb. Like it wasn't really real, y'know? I felt as though I should be crying or angry or at least something, but I couldn't get myself to feel _anything_. And it's been that way every time I've gone back there ever since.

One thing I did learn as I grew up was that, at some point in my life, everyone would leave me. My mum went first, quickly followed by my dad. God knows where _he _is now, if he's even still alive. Even Bryan Ferry got sick of me eventually, though I was the one that did the running that time. By the time I got back to London, I couldn't trust anybody, and two years living on the streets didn't exactly do wonders for my confidence. That's why I don't let people get too close, see - if you don't care about them, they can't hurt you. What's that old Marilyn Monroe quote? _'A smart girl kisses, but doesn't love.' _Something like that. Well, I'm not a girl, despite how many times I get mistaken for one, but that's me in a nutshell, really.

Howard was the one exception. He hasn't let me down yet. He hasn't left me yet. God knows why, if I was him, I'd have given up on me years ago. He got through to me, though, when we met so long ago. He was the first person in my life that looked past all the layers of glitter and smiles and lies and saw the real me. And saw that I was human, just like him and everyone else.

Now, I trust Howard completely. I do. He's my best mate. No, he's more than that; he's my world. Life without him would be like trying to cope without oxygen - I couldn't survive. But in spite of all that, in spite of everything we've been through together, there's still a part of me that doesn't want to let him in completely. Just in case. Just in case he comes to his senses and leaves, just like everyone else has.

It's funny, in a way. No, not funny - what's that word? The one that sounds a bit like a type of metal? Oh yeah… _ironic. _It's ironic. I swore to myself I would never be like my parents.

My mother was a bitch, a whore, and a junkie.

My dad was a bastard, a coward and a liar.

And I swore to myself I would never be like either of them. But now I realize that I am _exactly _like the pair of them - vain, stupid, selfish and spoilt.

They'd be so proud.

I used to have a motto, before I met Howard, when I was out on the streets, after I ran away from the forest. Sometimes I think it's the only thing that stopped me from tying bricks to myself and taking a dip in the Thames.

_You can only trust yourself, Vince. You're the only person who can never let you down._

I tried to stop thinking that way after I met Howard, and for the most part, I did. But it was a motto I lived by. Old habits die hard, and all that. So even now, there's a part of me that still clings to that one shred of wisdom.

The only trouble is, I have let myself down. So where does that leave me?

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, that was a bit crap, wasn't it? Not to mention short. Sorry. There will be another 'perspectives' chapter later on, this time from Howard's side of the story.

Now, I do have more of an idea as to where I want the next one to go, so hopefully it should be up fairly soon. I'm not making any promises, though. I seem to have a knack for breaking them.


	12. Power Play

**Author's Ramblings: **Well, it's not quite the super-speedy update I was hoping for, but it's definitely an improvement. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank all the lovely people who keep on reviewing this story. I know I don't reply very often (okay - hardly ever), but that doesn't mean it isn't appreciated. Because it is. Believe me.

The three songs that play on the radio in this chapter are (in order): 'A Design For Life' by Manic Street Preachers, 'I Know It's Over' by The Smiths, and 'Don't Speak' by No Doubt. I don't own any of them.

Oh, and Julia, you will be very glad to know that I'm not going to say anything negative about this, because I'm actually pretty happy with it.

Anyway. This is one of my favourite eps, so enjoy.

* * *

_'**The Fountain of Youth' episode recap: **The episode starts several hundred years ago on the Planet Xooberon, where a meeting is taking place between Naboo and the King of Xooberon. The King tells Naboo that he has an important job for him, one which will take him the rest of his life. He gives Naboo an amulet and tells him to guard it at all costs. Naboo presses a button on the amulet and disappears. It is only after he has gone that we learn the King has gotten him mixed up with a trained soldier named Banoo._

_Back in present day Dalston, Howard is having an age crisis after being mistaken for Vince's dad at their latest gig. Bollo accidentally lets it slip that Naboo has access to the legendary Fountain of Youth, and Howard and Vince are soon desperately searching through his belongings looking for it. Vince finds a map, which Howard takes from him, along with the amulet from the start. Howard reads from the map that they need to find the 'Desert of Nightmares', while Vince presses the button on the amulet at the same time. As he does so, he disappears from the flat and materialises again in a strange, desert-like environment. Realizing that this must be the Desert of Nightmares, he returns to the flat in order to fetch Howard._

_The pair walk in circles for hours before they are confronted by a rather short blue man with a huge forehead. When Vince accidentally reveals that they are looking for the Fountain of Youth, the dwarf summons his army to attack them. Content in the knowledge that they can use the amulet to return home, Howard verbally attacks the nomad leader about his height. Unfortunately, by the time he is done the amulet has run out of batteries, and the nomad leader summons a huge, behemoth-like dude to execute them. The giant hits Howard with his club when the nomad leader spots the amulet in Vince's hands and pronounces him 'The Chosen One'. The nomads worship Vince and treat him like a king while Howard is forced to be his slave. Howard attempts to reason with Vince, but the power has gone completely to his head, so much so that he actually believes he_ is _the Chosen One, and he has Howard taken away._

_Meanwhile, the Hitcher is watching from afar, with plans of his own to steal the amulet and gain access to the Fountain of Youth._

_Later that night, the nomads' camp is viciously attacked by a sandstorm. The leader tells Vince that it is a test of his worth as the Chosen One to defeat it. Howard abandons him, still hurt from earlier, and Vince is left alone to confront the Sandstorm, who actually turns out to be a man made of sandpaper. Sandstorm is frustrated because he cannot touch himself or anything else without wearing them down, and Vince, taking pity on the creature, gives him his gloves. Sandstorm gives Vince a horn to express his gratitude, and tells him to blow it should he run into any trouble._

_As the nomads celebrate Vince's 'defeat' of their enemy and shower him with gifts, a mysterious woman approaches Howard, who is excluded from the festivities. She uses his jealousy of Vince to turn him against the younger man, and tells him that if he steals the amulet, he will take his place as Chosen One. Howard does so, but when he goes to speak with the woman again, she transforms into the Hitcher, who takes the amulet from him._

_Upon finding the amulet missing, the nomads bury Vince and Howard up to their necks in sand so that they burn to death in the desert sun. Both appear to have forgotten about their previous power struggle and have reverted back to their usual selves, using the time to reminisce about the past. After several hours, Naboo and Bollo turn up to rescue them, though by this stage Howard has already burnt to a crisp._

_The foursome trek through the forest in order to find the Fountain of Youth, but are beaten to it by the Hitcher, who sends Evil Tree to delay them. Vince blows the horn to summon Sandstorm, who sands the tree down. By the time they reach the Fountain (which looks just like a bathroom that's been built in a forest clearing), the Hitcher is already showering under its spray. Naboo has one last trick up his sleeve, however, and flushes the toilet, causing their enemy too melt into a puddle of green goo._

_Howard manages to obtain some water from the Fountain and he and Vince share it out between them. Unfortunately, it emerges that they weren't supposed to drink it, and the pair of them regress back to infants._

**Power Play**

Vince couldn't help that little sideways glance in the mirror as he ruffled his hair absently, just to reassure himself that he actually had been restored to his proper age after that embarrassing 'Youth Juice' debacle. It was almost enough to put him off all anti-ageing products for the foreseeable future.

Almost. He still couldn't help wishing that Naboo had shaved a couple of extra years off when he worked his magic. Well, he certainly wasn't getting any younger on his own, was he? He was still gorgeous now, but one day…one day he would be old and wrinkled and uninterested in everything except his arthritis and finding the perfect rocking chair. If he didn't die on one of their madcap escapades before then, of course.

He would most likely look like the Hitcher when he was old, he realized with a sense of dread. Okay, so he wouldn't be _green, _but he would probably end up with the same pointy, skeletal face. His nose - which, let's face it, was quite big enough already - would probably balloon into the same kind of huge, crooked monstrosity. He'd read somewhere once that noses never stopped growing. Was that true? Was there some kind of surgery that prevented it? He studied his reflection in the mirror and tried to imagine what he'd look like with a straight nose.

Howard had once said that his misshapen snout was a part of his charm, when he'd last been considering cosmetic surgery. Howard talked the biggest load of bullshit sometimes. Vince had told him exactly that, and Howard had responded by telling him in gruesome detail exactly what rhinoplasty entailed. He hadn't been quite so keen on the idea after that.

Vince suddenly grimaced as an unwelcome and entirely unpleasant feeling washed through his body. He should have expected this; thinking about the Hitcher made him think about their latest adventure, which in turn made him think about Howard… which in turn sent crippling waves of guilt radiating through his system.

The way he had treated Howard back on Xooberon had been appalling, inexcusable. He knew that. It made him feel sick and utterly ashamed of himself to look back on it now. He had been completely drunk on power - for a few brief, glorious hours, he hadn't just been Vince Noir, wannabe rock 'n' roll star and small-town loser. No, he'd been the Chosen One. Those weird blue guys had treated him like a god - creepy though they might have been, they'd _worshipped _him. And like an idiot, he'd swallowed all their crap and played along with them, because he'd wanted so badly to believe that it was true.

There was still no excuse for his behaviour towards Howard, though. He'd forced his best friend into slavery, pretty much just because he could. And okay, so he'd been acting out a role to prevent them from getting killed, but a lot of it was selfish indulgence on his part. He could have told the nomads to leave off the other man a bit, they would have done whatever he said. But the thought honestly hadn't crossed his mind. He was too busy enjoying being showered him with gifts.

And there was something else, too. Something that sent him into a state of utter confusion every time he thought on it too long. When Howard had first appeared in that tent, clad in only a loincloth and chains… well, Vince had experienced some pretty intense urges, urges that surprised the hell out of him. He'd never in a million year expected to feel anything like _that _for Howard.

God, but he'd looked sexy, though, standing there half-naked and practically a slave to Vince's every wish and command. Maybe it was just the fact that Howard was completely at his mercy, but even as he was lying there amongst those luxurious pillows, he'd had visions of grabbing those chains, yanking Howard to his level, and doing things to him that should have only had a place in third-rate porn movies.

He'd responded, too, without even realizing it. In fact, looking back at it now, the way he had acted in that tent… had he subconsciously been trying to _seduce _Howard? The thought was ludicrous, yet he had to admit that it held at least a small grain of credibility. He'd been using all his best flirtatious techniques, too. Anyone else would have been on him like a flash - that blue midget guy certainly had - but Howard remained oblivious as ever.

Vince suddenly shook his head to get himself away from that train of thought. He was heading into dangerous territory. He shifted uncomfortably and sat down on the bed, all too aware of the warm flush spreading across his cheeks. In an attempt to distract himself, he reached over and flipped the radio on, a song he vaguely recognized crescendo-ing as it reached its chorus.

_We don't talk about love  
__We only want to get drunk…_

For the second time in about ten minutes, Vince caught himself wincing. Those lyrics hit just a little too close to home, given recent circumstances. Rolling his eyes, he scanned to the next station. Almost immediately, the crooning tones of Morrissey began to drift from the ancient set.

_If you're so very entertaining  
__Then why are you on your own tonight?  
__If you're so very good-looking  
__Then why are you on your own tonight?_

Apparently the radio controllers of the world were conspiring together tonight to tap into Vince Noir's head and draw every last emotion out of him until he was bleeding and hollow. With another sigh, he hit the scan button again, nodding his satisfaction as the opening notes to a No Doubt song filled the air. This was more like it. Fluffy pop with meaningless lyrics.

_You and me  
__We used to be together  
__Every day together  
__Always_

Wait a minute…

_I really feel  
__That I'm losing my best friend  
__I can't believe  
__This could be the end_

Unable to take anymore, Vince ripped the plug from its socket with a growl of frustration, cutting Gwen off mid-word. Apparently there would be no radio for him tonight, then.

Fuck it. This was getting ridiculous. He was going to talk to Howard, even if it killed him.

Even if _Howard _killed him.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard looked up as Vince entered the sitting room and hovered by the sofa, appearing more nervous than Howard had ever seen him. _Good. Let him squirm._

"Hey. Um. All right?"

Howard merely grunted in response, watching as the younger man perched gingerly on the edge of his seat, wringing his hands together and fiddling with his hair. He was uncharacteristically jittery, and Howard wished he would just suck it up and spit out whatever it was he had to say.

Then again, maybe not. While his own stoic silence was partly because of his desire to see Vince suffer, he had to admit that at least some of it was also down to the sheer level of awkwardness that now seemed to hang in the air between them. He'd had... _feelings _whilst standing in that tent thousands of light-years away, feelings he definitely wasn't supposed to have for a jumped-up little electro ponce who also happened to be his roommate and best friend. Though the latter half of that statement was debatable these days.

In his mind's eye, Howard was suddenly taken back, watching Vince stretched out among those cushions, trailing that damned peacock feather all over his face and neck and chest. That, coupled with the cold disregard he had shown towards Howard and the bored, lazy tone of voice with which he had spoken, had truly driven the older man over the edge. Whether Vince had been doing it intentionally or not, it had been infuriating as hell…and a massive turn-on.

"I'm sorry." Vince suddenly blurted out, making Howard start slightly as he came crashing back to the present. "I'm sorry I made you be my slave and wouldn't let you have any clothes and made fun of you and let them beat you up and used up all the sun cream so you shrivelled like a crisp."

His confession spewed forth in one long, unpunctuated explosion of verbal diarrhoea, half the words getting lost as they tangled together. And there was still more;

"I'm sorry for the way I've been ever since we left the zoo; I've been a complete _bitch _to you and I don't know why you haven't left me yet Howard, I really don't, because I'm a horrible person and I -"

Vince clammed up suddenly, as if to stop hismelf from blurting something out, and looked down at his boots, crimson-faced. Howard just blinked at him in shock. That was probably the biggest dose of honesty he'd seen since they arrived in this godforsaken place, and he honestly had no idea how to respond to it. Misinterpreting his silence, Vince stood up from the sofa and went to leave the room when Howard stopped him.

"Hey, Vince?"

"Yeah?"

"C'mere."

It seemed that was all the prompting Vince needed as he collapsed back down next to Howard, who drew him in without even thinking about it, wrapping his arms around the small body. God, it was a long time since they'd last been like this. _Too _long. How had they let themselves get into this state, when every word they had to say to one another was another lie or insult, when they each knew next to nothing about the other and couldn't even trust each other anymore? Strangers. That's what they were - strangers who desperately needed to get to know one another again.

"I'll never leave you, Vince." Howard whispered. His hand unconsciously found its way into a mane of raven hair and he hesitated slightly, half expecting to get slapped for touching a masterpiece. When he didn't, he allowed himself to linger there for a few more seconds to wonder at how soft it was before continuing his little speech;

"You can be… _difficult _at times, to say the least, but I'd never give up on you, because I know the _real_ you is nothing like this person you pretend to be."

Vince snuffled but said nothing, pushing his face further into Howard's neck. He appeared to be trying to bury himself there. Funnily enough, Howard found that he didn't mind.

"I guess I owe you an apology as well. For stealing the amulet."

Vince pulled back slightly to look up at Howard, quirking an eyebrow. "That was you?"

_Shit. _"Um… yeah. Sorry."

Vince sighed. "Doesn't matter. If I hadn't been acting like such a twat, you wouldn't have done it."

Howard found that he couldn't disagree, unfortunately. "Yeah, well… I wanted to apologize anyway. And not just for that. I've been too harsh on you lately."

The smaller man shook his head with a watery smile. "Don't. _Someone _needs to be harsh on me, or I'll never learn."

Howard was quietly surprised by this mature sentiment, and suddenly found himself wishing that they could stay in this moment forever. Because he was sure that, when it was over, the fragile truce between them would break again, and they'd be back to acting like complete strangers. To an outside observer, their 'normal' behaviour as of late would probably give the impression of two people who couldn't stand each other. So why was it that right now, in this rare tender moment, what Howard felt for Vince was the exact _opposite_ of hate?

The he remembered what some wise person had once said about hate not being too different from something else, and suddenly felt very foolish.

* * *

**A/N: **Ah... I figured this fic could use a small dose of fluff, as it's been sorely lacking in it lately... especially since season three isn't too far away now.

And yes, I do have a bit of a weird obsession with Noel's nose... I _am_ talking to my therapist about this. (And seriously, kids, if you do happen to be considering rhinoplasty - don't. I had a friend who was thinking about it at one stage, so I helpfully looked up some stuff on the 'net to show her. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so sick in all my life.)

And now I really must get some sleep, since it's rapidly approaching 3am. If you feel like dropping me a review, please don't hesitate.


	13. Love Games

**Author's Ramblings: **Something a wee bit lighter and fluffier for you. I've never tried to write Old Gregg before, so I'm a bit nervous about whether I pulled him off okay. Flashbacks are in italics, and some of them are from chapter 3 of this very fic. Snazzy.

Oh, a fun fact for you: You know that scene in the episode where Howard and Vince walk into the bar and everyone stops to stare at them? Yeah, that's happened to me. Walking into a pub full of old Cornish folk downing their ales in my skinnies and cowboy boots. Crazy days.

I'll shut up. You want to read the story, not my pointless anecdotes. Enjoy.

* * *

'_**The Legend of Old Gregg' episode recap: **__When Howard and Vince are chased home by an angry mob after a particularly disastrous gig, they decide to head out of town in order to find musical inspiration. They wind up in a small fishing village in the middle of nowhere, where they are met with much suspicion from the country folk that reside there. One of the locals tells them that if they want to find inspiration, they should go fishing on Black Lake when the moon is full._

_Taking this advice to heart, the boys head out onto the lake in a wooden rowing boat, armed with plenty of fishing gear. Much to Howard's annoyance, Vince proves to be a natural at fishing, using nothing more than his charisma and looks to lure the fish to him. Vince soon becomes bored, but Howard stubbornly refuses to leave until he has caught at least one fish, and Vince goes back to the shore by himself on a rubber dinghy. After he leaves, Howard feels a bite on his line. Instead of a fish, however, he pulls out a transsexual merman calling himself 'Old Gregg' and claiming to have a 'mangina'. This issues forth a powerful light which knocks Howard out._

_Vince returns to the inn they visited earlier, where he is received like a hero for his impressive haul of fish, the locals all having a change of heart and embracing his quirky London charm. He begins to tell the story of his fishing exploits, but when he reveals that he was out on Black Lake, his new friends all react with varying degrees of horror. They warn him that it's unheard of to go out on Black Lake at night, because of a sea monster named Old Gregg that lures fishermen to their deaths. Vince worries about Howard, but is told by the locals that it already too late; Howard will be dead. In desperation, Vince puts in a call to Naboo, who reluctantly abandons his hookah in order to offer his assistance._

_Howard wakes up in an underwater cave, surrounded by random objects and the ruins of other fishing boats. Old Gregg appears and welcomes Howard to his 'home', asking him several confusing questions and showing him his watercolour paintings. Howard is perplexed by Gregg, but not frightened, and goes to leave, branding Gregg 'pathetic'. Old Gregg then asks if Howard loves him, to which Howard replies he doesn't. Gregg shows Howard the skeleton of another fisherman who refused to love him, and Howard quickly changes his mind, claiming that he was only playing a game._

_Meanwhile, Vince, Naboo and Bollo attempt to navigate the Lake in a submarine._

_Whilst enjoying a 'romantic' dinner, Gregg tells Howard that he has 'the funk', a small creature from outer space that produces a kind of thick black milkshake. When drunk, the milkshake lends the drinker the gift of great musical talent. Howard is intrigued despite himself, and Gregg issues him an ultimatum - they can use the funk to form a band of their own and become international superstars, if Howard marries Gregg. Seeing no other choice, Howard reluctantly agrees, and Gregg skips off to find the perfect wedding dress. As he does so, Vince arrives in the submarine and Howard escapes, taking the funk with him._

**Love Games**

"Hey, Howard? Can I be a bridesmaid at the wedding?"

Howard sighed loudly, resisting the urge to bash his head repeatedly against the nearest available surface. Or maybe Vince's head would do instead. It had been a long, painful, and at times, utterly humiliating few days, and he was immensely glad to be back at the flat after an equally long, painful journey which involved having to dislodge a gender-confused merman from the top of the van. Now all he really wanted to do was chill out and relax to the soothing, melodic notes of Charlie Mingus, but Vince was hanging around like a bad smell. Of course, the younger man found the whole story of Howard's ordeal utterly hysterical. Of _course _he did. Anything that involved Howard and misery was comedy gold in the warped world of Vince Noir.

"No, Vince. You can't be a bridesmaid. Because you're a man." Howard was sure that his flat, deadpan tone would have clued Vince into the fact that he really, _really _didn't want to talk about this, but apparently not.

"Best man, then? Page boy?" A slight pause. "Ring-bearer?"

"Vince!" Howard exploded, finally reaching the end of his tether. "There is _not _going to be a wedding. I am not marrying that… that _thing!_"

"Aw, why not? I thought he was a pretty good catch!" Vince replied, snickering pathetically at his own lame joke. "A 'good catch', geddit, Howard? You know… fishing… catch?"

"Yes, Vince. I get it."

Vince sighed and perched on the edge of the sofa, cocking his head to the side as he looked at Howard from underneath his fringe. It made Howard feel… _nervous, _somehow. As though he were being tested.

"You know, Howard, whatever's making you act like you've got a stick up your arse, you don't need to take it out on me. I came back for you, remember?"

Howard squirmed guiltily. Vince _had _come back for him. And if he hadn't, he really _would_ be marrying that freakish fish-man,whether he liked it or not.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did."

"'Course I did. You didn't think I'd leave you behind, did you?"

Howard didn't say anything.

"Howard?" Vince's smile was fading fast. "You thought I wouldn't come for you, didn't you?"

"Well, you know, things haven't been that great between us lately…"

He was ashamed to admit it now, but there were times down there in that cave when he actually had found himself doubting whether Vince would come to his rescue. The darker, more cynical side of his brain had wondered whether Vince even noticed he was missing. He had no sense of time passing in that murky, underwater darkness, and Old Gregg's baffling suggestions hadn't done much to help matters.

"_Hey, Howard. You ever drunk Bailey's out of a shoe?"_

"_Howard, ma juicy sugar-plum. Wanna make sweet love to the sound of jellyfish playing the harpsichord?"_

"_C'mon Howard, let's build a love nest outta KitKat wrappers!"_

And then there had been the time that Gregg had caught him looking at those ridiculous signed press shots of Vince's. He'd picked them up and pocketed them when the other man left them on the fishing boat, and for some unknown reason, he found himself pulling them out again in his desperation.

"_Watcha got there, Howard? That your ladyfriend?"_

_Howard didn't reply._

"_What's her name? C'mon, you can tell Old Gregg what your ladyfriend's called."_

"_My 'ladyfriend' is called Vince. And he's gonna back here for me. Just you wait, sir. I'm Howard Moon - no-one'll keep me waiting for rescue."_

"_Oh yeah?" Before Howard had a chance to react, Gregg grabbed the photos from his hands and ripped them up into little pieces. "You won't be needin' Vincey now, Howard. You've got Old Gregg. Old Gregg'll protect you. And if that little man-lady sets one foot in my cave, I'll scoop his eyeballs out with a fork and use his hair to knit you a furry little sweater."_

_It was around that point that Howard began _hoping _Vince wouldn't show._

"I don't believe this!" Vince was saying - well, more like yelling, actually. He shot up from his perch on the arm of the sofa and shot Howard a accusing glance with his big blue eyes. Big blue eyes which were now filling up dangerously. _Shit._

"I can't believe you thought I'd leave you in that place! They told me you were going to _die_, Howard. They told me you were _already _dead. I - I thought I'd lost you again."

That last sentence was barely louder than a whisper, but Howard heard it, and it brought back a vivid stream of memories from the last time he'd 'risen from the dead'.

"_You were _dead_, Howard! Okay? You were dead and I - I didn't know what to do without you!" _

"_Don't die again, Howard. I don't know what to do without you. I'm so - I don't _have _anyone else. You can't die again, you can't leave me again!"_

"I'm sorry Vince, I… I didn't think."

"Yeah, well." Vince sat back down on the sofa, and Howard politely ignored the fact that he was wiping his eyes and sniffing like he'd just picked up a cocaine habit. "S'pose you got a right to be upset, don't you? You know what I reckon your problem is, Howard?"

"Enlighten me."

"I think you're scared. Scared you're going to end up like Old Gregg, alone and desperate and pathetic. You're halfway there already."

"Thanks, Vince."

"But, Howard, you don't need to be scared. You've got me."

_Yes well, _Howard thought irrationally. _As the saying goes, that's not going to keep me warm on a cold night._ Worryingly, though, he found himself wishing that it would. And with Vince looking at him right now in that specific _way _he had, his mind decided to flash back to something else he'd said in that cave.

"_When you _do _love someone, sometimes you say you don't because you're playing hard to get, you're playing a game…"_

He quickly shook the memory away before it could settle down in his brain. That had nothing to do with anything. The point was, however he meant it, Vince was being undeniably sweet to him right now, and Howard supposed he ought to relish that while it lasted.

"Thanks, Vince. But I still don't know what you're talking about."

Vince just smiled enigmatically and said nothing.

"And, hey!" Howard blurted out, suddenly remembering. "We've got the funk now. We can take the musical world by storm!"

"Actually, no, you can't." Naboo interrupted, drifting into the room. "I had to hand it over to the Board of Shamen. Improper use of magical creatures. Don't look at me like that; you're lucky I didn't report you."

"Great." Howard muttered, sinking back into his depression. "Just great."

"Hey, come on, Casanova, it's not all bad." Vince soothed, trying in vain to lighten him up again. "We'll just have to go at it the way we always do."

"What, like a pair of half-cocked idiots -"

Fortunately, the phone chose that moment to ring, considerably fainter than it should have been for some reason.

"I'll get it." Vince mumbled, rising from the sofa. "It's probably Leroy. Naboo, where's the phone gone?"

"I moved it to the bathroom. It was taking up too much space in here."

It was a pointer to the sheer insanity of their lives that Vince didn't react in the slightest to this piece of news, just trotted off to the bathroom in search of the offending item. Five minutes later he returned with an almost maniacal grin on his face.

"Howard, you'll never guess -"

"Go on then," Howard interrupted. "Go and get shit-faced with Leroy. I don't care."

For a second, Vince's smile slipped, and a touch of hurt registered in his eyes. Then the moment was gone and the grin was back, brighter than ever.

"No, Howard, it's not that. Looks like we won't need the funk after all."

Now Howard was intrigued. "Go on."

"That was Pieface Records. Turns out they were at that last gig we did before we went away."

"Please don't tell me they liked it."

"No, they thought it was the most diabolical thing they've ever seen. But apparently that's exactly what they're looking for. Something raw, edgy. They want to offer us a slot on the Pieface Showcase in Las Vegas in two weeks' time!"

Maybe he was still in shock from everything that had happened lately, but Howard was having difficulty keeping up. "And that means…?"

Much to his surprise, Vince launched himself forwards and threw his skinny arms around Howard's neck.

"We're going to America, baby!"

* * *

**A/N: **Which, of course, brings us directly to the Nightmare of Milky Joe. And I have a pretty good idea of where it's going to go, so it should be up fairly soon. Maybe even tomorrow, if you ask nicely and send me lots of pretty reviews, though I can't make any promises. I've been looking forward to it for a while, actually... some things are going to happen which I think might make some of you very excited... but I won't say any more than that. Heh.


	14. Perspectives II

**Author's Ramblings: **Here we are with another chapter, as promised. Howard's POV this time. Well, half of it is, anyway. Flashbacks are in bog-standard third person narrative still. This part contains scenes of a **sexual nature. **I wasn't sure whether to up the rating or not, but I din't want to do that just because of one scene, so I've put in warning lines so you can skip past it if it's not your cuppa tea. You'll know when you hit them.

Anyway, this is by far my favourite chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

- - - - - X - - - - -

'_**The Nightmare of Milky Joe' episode recap: **__The boys' plans to make their fortunes in America are put on hold when they end up marooned on a desert island. They quickly start blaming each other, and after 44 days, Howard begins to slowly lose his mind. Sensing that there is no rescue coming, he attempts to persuade Vince into 'offering himself up' as a meal. Unsurprisingly, Vince is less than taken by the idea, but in trying to escape finds some coconuts, which the two then feast on instead._

_After filling themselves up they begin fighting again, Howard's negative and often depressing take on the situation clashing with Vince's optimistic outlook. Howard dismisses Vince as worthless, and Vince counters by mocking Howard's attempts to document their adventure. When he goes too far with jibes about the particularly touchy subject of Howard's love life, Howard draws a line in the sand between them. However, the joke is on him once again - all the trees are on Vince's side._

_In the morning, Vince is cheerful as ever, having knocked himself up an impressive wooden hut overnight. Driven even deeper into despair, Howard notices a coconut lying on the ground with markings that resemble a face, and begins to make conversation with it. He names the coconut 'Milky Joe' and dresses him in a striped tea towel (he's French)._

_Vince overhears Howard and Milky Joe having an intellectual conversation and asks to join in. When he is rejected, he retaliates by making a female coconut called Ruby and dating her. Howard is immediately jealous, and attempts to patch things up with Vince again. Vince slams his hospitality - and the door - in Howard's face, and Howard becomes even more dejected than ever, reflecting on all his lost hopes and dreams that will never be realized._

_Some time later, Vince walks past Howard's hut with Ruby and another coconut girl on his arm. Howard becomes even more jealous about it and asks Vince to 'put a word in' for him with the second girl, Precious. At first Vince refuses, claiming that he and Ruby have developed an open relationship and want to go for the 'coconut three-way', but then takes pity on the other man and invites him over to dinner so he can attempt to impress Precious._

_Surprisingly, Howard is successful in the advances and falls into a relationship with Precious. However, things aren't as rosy as they first appear, as it is revealed that Precious is abusive when Vince invites Howard to a party. Vince threatens to have a word with her, but Howard tells him to leave it, so he goes to the party alone._

_Howard watches Vince's party jealously from his hut. When Ruby questions him, he tries sticking up for himself as Vince suggested. He pushes her away, and she falls and hits her head on a rock. Realizing that he's killed her, Howard goes to Vince for help and the two of them bury the body, not seeing the cameraman that films the whole thing._

_The police arrive on the scene, and, after a heated car chase, Vince and Howard find themselves on the dock. Milky Joe is called to the witness stand during their trial and describes them as violent men, saying he believes they both killed Precious. The judge finds Vince and Howard guilty and a coconut that looks suspiciously like the Hitcher encourages the others to take part in a coconut shy, in which Vince and Howard are the targets._

_The scene suddenly changes to Vince and Howard lying on the beach surrounded by empty coconuts, and are awoken by a sailor throwing water over them. The sailor tells them that the coconuts they'd eaten were rancid, and everything that had happened since then was a hallucination._

_Vince and Howard arrive back at the flat and tune into the Pieface Showcase, despite the fact that they didn't make it to their slot. The show is presented by a very over-enthusiastic Bob Fossil, and the boys are horrified to discover that the headlining act is 'Milky Joe and the Coconuts'._

**Perspectives II**

_**Howard**_

I'm confused.

It's not a feeling I'm used to. I'm Howard Moon; Man of Action, jazz maverick, spanner of genres, multi-instrumentalist and award-winning cream poet. Men like me don't have time for petty emotions like confusion.

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm none of that stuff. I'm no-one.

But I _am _confused. I can't get some of the stuff that happened on that island out of my head. For one thing, I don't even know if it really _did _happen. That sailor, the one that looked a bit like Fossil, he seemed convinced it was just a hallucination because of the coconuts. But how would that explain Milky Joe being on the Pieface Showcase? It doesn't make sense. I get a headache just thinking about it.

But there's one particular event that I can't get out of my head, no matter how hard I try. It was a few weeks after I drew that line in the sand, after I had Milky Joe, but before Vince had Ruby. Every time I close my eyes, I see it replaying over and over again in my head like one of those old black and white movies.

"_Hey."_

_Vince jumped a little, and Howard cursed himself for startling the other man. He relaxed a bit when he saw it was only Howard, but his eyes still remained guarded._

"_Hey. What you doing here? Not having a meeting with the Coconut Lodge?"_

_Howard cringed as Vince made no attempt to hide his disdain. "Ah… no, actually. We've decided to have a break for tonight, so I'm all yours."_

"_Lucky me." Vince murmured, then went back to staring out at the ocean, as he had been before. After a moment's hesitation, Howard set down next to him. They were on a secluded section of the beach, tucked away behind a small grove of trees. The night was warm, but a cool breeze wafted gently through the air, preventing it from becoming uncomfortably hot. The moon was full and bright, but mercifully silent, and its rays lent an ethereal, silvery glow to the waters, to the sand, to Vince's hair. Despite how much Howard had gotten to loathe this place, it _was_ beautiful._

"_It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Vince asked suddenly, as though he'd looked right into Howard's brain and pulled the words right out._

"_I thought you hated it here. No phones, no TV, no radio, nowhere to plug your straighteners in..."_

"_It's not so bad. It's the company I miss more than anything."_

"_What, Naboo and Bollo? They probably haven't even noticed we're missing. Or do you mean all your sad mates that you go out clubbing with? Yeah, I can see why you miss them -"_

"_Oh, Howard, isn't it obvious?" Vince interrupted suddenly, exasperated. "I miss _you!_"_

_Howard blinked. That didn't even make sense. _"_But…I'm here with you. If anything, we see _more _of each other out here than we did back at home!"_

_Vince shrugged almost shyly, trailing his fingers back and forth through the golden sand. "Yeah, but… we don't _talk, _do we? Even back at home, we never talk any more. When was the last time we really had a proper conversation? One that didn't involve us hurling insults at each other?"_

_Howard was about to point out whose fault that was, but stopped himself when Vince looked up at him. In this light, Vince's eyes seemed almost preternaturally blue, and the expression on his face was open, honest. Genuine. Without his usual defence mechanisms and three thousand or so layers of crap, he was no longer the bitchy, narcissistic, self-obsessed stranger that Howard flat-shared with back at home. He was just Vince; sweet, simple Vince, Howard's best mate._

"…_listening to anything I'm saying, are you?" Vince demanded, and Howard realized too late that he was still talking. The look on his face was no longer sweet, just extremely pissed off._

"_Um… yes!" Howard tried to sound indignant. "Of course I have."_

"_Really. What's the last thing I said, then?"_

"_Um… something about… cheese?"_

_Vince raised an eyebrow, then smirked and gave Howard a 'playful' shove, hard enough to send him sprawling into the sand._

"_Hey! You'd just better watch it sir, or I'll come at you like a runaway train, like a rampaging bull in the pasture, like a -"_

"_Go on, then."_

"_What?"_

"_You're always saying that you'll 'come at me' like something. I want to see you do it."_

"_Right, you asked for it." Howard mumbled, before grabbing Vince and mercilessly tickling his ribs. The younger man squealed with a combination of surprise and delight, struggling in vain to break free._

"_Howard! Let me go!"_

_Vince put up an impressive fight, kicking and writhing and clawing for all he was worth, but Howard was bigger and stronger, and he used it to his advantage, using the momentum of Vince's struggles to push him back into the sand, coming to rest with his knees either side of a slender waist and his hands pinning Vince's wrists above his head._

_And then the scuffle came to an end, and the situation didn't seem quite so funny any more._

_Howard's face was about an inch away from Vince's, and for the longest of moments, they just stared into one another's eyes, maintaining visual contact for the first time in months. Vince licked his lips as his penetrating blue gaze roved over Howard's face. Howard knew him well enough by now to know that the gesture was an unconscious one, but it still sent a bolt of desire the likes of which he'd never felt before shooting down his spine._

"_You know," Vince broke the silence in a pretty passable American drawl, "A less honourable man than yourself could easily take advantage of a little ol' lady like me right now."_

_Though the comment was made in jest, the look in his eyes was serious, and something else, too. Could it be… pleading? Longing? Something like that._

"_Well then," Howard replied, slipping into character without even thinking about it. "It's a good thing I'm an honourable man."_

"_Mmm…" Vince sighed non-commitally. His eyelids fluttered closed, the long, dark lashes brushing the sharp edge of his cheekbone. He really was exquisitely beautiful, Howard thought numbly, moving his hand to cup the other man's face. Vince managed to get one of his own hands free, and reached it behind Howard's neck, toying with the curls that grew there._

"_Howard…"_

_Hearing his name uttered in that breathy whisper just about broke Howard's self control, and he released his death-grip on Vince's wrist, crushing their lips together with a force and desperation that surprised even him. Instantly, Vince's arms went around him as he returned the kiss with every bit as much passion, pulling their bodies as close together as it was possible for them to be with their clothes still on. And it still wasn't close enough. Howard moved his lips to explore Vince's neck, tearing strange whimpering cries from the younger man's throat that spurred him on even more._

I know what you're thinking. Don't think that. We didn't go all the way; that much I do know.

But we came close.

- - - - - X - - - - -  
**Your warning lines  
**- - - - -X - - - - -

_Vince rolled them over to be on top, leaning down to undo the buttons on Howard's raggedy Hawaiian shirt with shaking fingers. He pushed the torn material off the bigger man's shoulders when the last one was undone, and Howard gasped as Vince began pouring kisses all over his chest and stomach. When he reached the waistband of Howard's trousers, he paused and looked up questioningly. Howard uttered his name, and that was all the reassurance he seemed to need, flashing a quick grin before unfastening the button and yanking down both the trousers and the boxer shorts underneath in one go._

_Howard's arousal sprung free, and Vince took him into his mouth without warning, forcing Howard to make some kind of pathetic wail he was pretty sure a Man of Action like himself should be ashamed of. His hands found their way into Vince's hair, grasping at the strands so hard, he was sure it would have been painful. He half-expected Vince to stop what he was doing and yell at him, but he didn't, thankfully._

_Howard jerked his hips without even meaning to, forcing himself all the way down Vince's throat. The younger man gagged slightly but quickly recovered, making little humming noises that cause Howard to thrust all the more._

He's done this before, _Howard realized, with probably more anger than he had a right to feel. He may have been inexperienced, but he could tell that Vince was practiced. He wondered with a sick feeling in his gut how many times he had done this with faceless strangers in club toilets and alleyways, in return for favours or money or just not getting his face kicked in. It was that thought that led him to grasp Vince by the shoulders and pull him back up to face level._

"_Together." He said simply. Vince nodded, clearly understanding Howard's wish and dropping his head onto Howard's shoulder as the older man sat up and put his arms around him again. After a few moments, Howard pulled away to lift off Vince's ridiculous leafy shirt. Vince moaned quietly as Howard ran his hands down over his ribs and up his back, eventually coming to grasp his shoulder blades as they fell back into the sand again in their original position._

_Vince whined desperately and arched his back, pressing their lower bodies together in a way that made them both groan aloud as liquid fire shot through their systems. Howard could feel how badly Vince needed this, and he was pretty sure he couldn't last much longer without spontaneously combusting, so he moved down and pulled off the bamboo drainpipes, pausing along the way to drop several kisses on Vince's torso._

_Howard paused a moment to appreciate the sheer beauty of the sight before him. Vince was stretched out naked on the beach, his pale skin burning brightly in the moonlight and his raven hair bleeding like a halo into the sand around his head. His eyes were heavy-lidded and almost blackened with desire, his fringe sticking to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks flushed and lips parted and swollen._

_Then Vince spread his legs apart and spat in his hand, slicking Howard up in preparation. Howard pressed a kiss to his collarbone before leaning back to look his soon-to-be love in the eye._

"_Are you sure you want to do this, Vince?"_

"_Yeah… I love you, Howard."_

- - - - - X - - - - -  
**End of mature scene  
**- - - - - X - - - - -

_With those words, Howard came jarring back to his senses so harshly, it was as though someone had ripped the needle off a cheesy romantic movie soundtrack. What the hell was he doing?! This was _Vince. _His friend. Barely even that, most of the time. He was meant to be _mad _at Vince. He certainly wasn't meant to be getting naked with him._

"_Howard?" Vince's eyes snapped open, sensing Howard's hesitation, though he was still clearly hazy. "What are you doing?"_

_Howard couldn't look at him. Partly because of the guilt gnawing at the pit of his stomach, and partly because he was worried looking at him would send him into a frenzy of uncontrollable desire again. Instead he stood up, gathering his clothes and awkwardly getting back into them._

"_Howard." This time Vince's voice was clearer, sharper as he sat up, levelling the other man with an even stare, eyes like blue slits in his face. It was clear he knew now that there was going to be no sex, but still confused as to _why_. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"_

"_I, uh… Actually, Milky Joe's calling me, so I'd better go see what he wants… I'll speak to you later though, yeah?"_

_With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Vince shivering, alone and unsatisfied on the beach._

I know. I know, you don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have left him like that. It was awful, inexcusable. I feel disgusted with myself. Though he got his revenge. The next day I was introduced to Ruby.

My only defence is that I know it didn't _mean _anything to him. Vince likes sex. Actually, that's an understatement - to say that Vince likes sex is like saying I like jazz. That is to say, Vince likes sex A LOT. I mean, I'm not stupid, I hear him at night time when he brings people home, thinking I'm asleep. He's not quiet. And neither are they, most of the time. I don't like to think what he does to them. Actually, that's a lie; I _do _like to think of it. I like to think of him doing it to _me._

But I digress. The point is, he'd been stuck on a desert island for nearly fifty days. I was the only other human being in the vicinity, so I was the best he could do. As far as he was concerned, it was just sex. Or it would have been, had it actually happened. As for the 'I love you' thing, I don't know what that was about. I know he loves me as a friend, he's told me often enough. Maybe he's just lonely. Or maybe he says that to everyone he screws; I wouldn't know.

So I think it's fair to say that Vince's motives in the whole thing were pretty clear. It's my part in the events that I'm wondering about. As the old saying goes, it takes two to tango, and I _instigated _it. And yes, I've been having these certain, unnameable _feelings _for Vince for months now. And yes, they've been getting stronger and stronger recently. But…

I don't even know why I'm trying to justify this. It didn't even happen - it was just some warped, delusional fantasy caused by eating too many rancid coconuts. As far as Vince is concerned, it probably _didn't _happen. Part of me is dying to ask him if he remembers anything, but I'm too scared of being rejected. I can just imagine him saying it now, with that irritating little half-smirk on his face:

"_Yeah, I'm tryin' to forget it, actually, Howard. Me and you? Ugh. Thank God it was only a dream, eh?"_

All completely innocent, not knowing how much pain he'd be causing me. Christ, I've really got it bad for the little bastard, haven't I? I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve this, but it must have been something pretty terrible. Out of all the people I could go and fall in love with, I have to pick the one person who is incapable of loving me back. The one person who will never see me as anything more than a joke.

"Howard?"

I glance up at the sound of my own name. Vince had been lying on the sofa, buried in the latest copy of Cheekbone magazine, but now he's sitting up and looking at me with a peculiar expression on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Back on that island… or in the dream, whatever… did we… I mean, did we… fight a lot?"

I could swear that wasn't what he was going to say, but I don't push it. "No more than usual."

"Oh." And he goes back to his magazine.

"Right!" Naboo says suddenly, striding into the room and making us both jump to attention. For someone who's only about four feet tall, he has the presence of an army general. "I'm gettin' sick of you two slackers lazing around here, cluttering up the place and not getting any work done. Your rent's four weeks overdue. You said you were going to America to make your fortune, and you've come back empty handed - again!"

"That wasn't exactly our fault, Naboo." I point out. Vince doesn't say anything, just glances briefly over the top of the magazine before disappearing into its pages again.

"Maybe not, but unless you happened to take down the number of that captain while he was chasing you with a harpoon, that's not a lot of use. From tomorrow, I want you both working in the shop downstairs. You either earn your beds here, or you find somewhere else to live."

And he leaves again.

So, that's it. From tomorrow, we're starting work in Naboo's shady, probably highly illegal second-hand shop, which as far as I can tell is just a front for his even shadier, _more _illegal shamanistic activities. Can't exactly say I'm looking forward to it. Vince will probably do a minimal amount of work, flirt with the customers, pocket the contents of the cash register and find even more new and exciting ways to be a bitch, while I toil from nine to five for nothing but minimum wage and heaps of unnecessary ridicule. Still, at least it'll be a handy distraction from all my other problems.

Who wouldn't want to be me right now?

**A/N: **Heh.

Season three up next, so make sure your emotional safeguards are well and truly in place!

In the meantime... reviews, pretty please?


	15. Doing Business

**Author's Ramblings: **I'm ba-ack! Roll on season 3!

Please forgive me if this chapter has any typos; I have looked over it, but it's very late and I'm very tired, so I might have missed a few...

'Tainted Love' lyrics belong to Soft Cell. At least, I think they do - there have been that many covers of it, I don't even know which is the orginal, but Soft Cell's version is the most famous, and it's the one I have on my iPod, so... yeah. It's not mine, anyway.

Also, this chapter contains allusions to sexual abuse. It isn't shown or described in any way, but I just thought I should probably put a warning up, in case anyone's sensitive to that kind of thing.

And on that note...  
Please don't chase after me with sharp pointy objects!  
You know I love you all really!  
I really am sorry.  
But it had to be done.

- - - - - X - - - - -

'_**Eels' episode recap: **__Howard is infuriated when graffiti artists vandalise the front of the shop, advertising his as a prostitute with slogans such as; 'Howard Moon licks balls for money'. The others appear to take it seriously, even believing Howard to be the one responsible. Naboo and Bollo go away for the Head Shaman's stag weekend, leaving Vince and Howard in charge of the shop. Howard is furious when Naboo implies that Vince is a better salesman than him, and attempts to impress the other man with his sales pitch. He shows off a selection of 'elbow patches' including varieties such as the survival patch. Vince is less than impressed, and shows Howard his own invention - the CelebRadar, a tracking device that allows fans to learn the whereabouts of tagged popstars. Howard is openly mocking, and challenges Vince to a 'battle of the sales', which he accepts._

_Several hours later, and Howard doesn't have a single customer, while Vince has a long line of excitable people desperate to try out the CelebRadar. Howard is jealous and attempts to steal customers from Vince's queue, with little success. He is momentarily excited when an expensive-looking drag queen by the name of Elanor expresses an interest, but she quickly reveals that it's really Howard's 'advert' she is interested in. Howard denies having anything to do with it, but she leaves him her card anyway. Furious, Howard closes the shop, pushing the rest of Vince's customers out of the door. Vince protests, but soon gets over it when he realizes he's made three thousand euros, and rushes out to try and tag the elusive Pete Neon in order to further his business. Howard is dismayed when he pulls down the shutters and realizes that the graffiti is back._

_A cloaked figure wielding a staff appears in the shop whilst Howard is alone. He is revealed to be the Hitcher, though neither he nor Howard appear to recognize each other from previous episodes. The Hitcher takes Howard's survival patch and puts it in his pocket without paying for it, then urinates in Howard's face. He then goes to tell Howard about when the Nabootique was a pie-and-mash shop, and they all used to eat Eels served up by the landlady Elsie. He plays a song about it on the piano, and as he does so Howard is sucked into the Hitcher's hat where he dances with Elsie. The Hitcher vows to protect Howard - but for a price. Howard must get him one thousand euros by midnight, or he'll set his eels on him._

_Vince returns to the shop to find Howard in a state of utter panic. When he learns what's happened, he tries to ring Naboo, but is unable to get through as there are no phones allowed on the stag weekend. Howard insists that they run away, and Vince accuses him of being a coward. Howard admits that he's been running all his life, particularly from student loans. Vince has a sudden brainwave and tells Howard that he knows how to get the money - holding up Elanor's business card._

_Some time later and the boys are standing by an underpass, Howard dressed as a cowboy. Vince explains the plan to him - Howard must offer his services to Elanor, but ask for the money upfront. Once he has it in his hand, Vince will run in an stage a mugging with a plastic gun. While clearly uncomfortable with the plan, Howard admits it's preferable to the Hitcher and his eels, and goes to meet Elanor while Vince hides round the corner. Just as Howard takes the money, Vince is distracted by the sight of Pete Neon landing in front of him, and rushes to tag the popstar, leaving Howard to fend for himself against Elanor's advances._

_They arrive back at the shop with the one thousand euros, though Howard looks decidedly worse for the wear. The Hitcher arrives and demands his money, but when he receives it he decides he's still going to kill Howard and Vince anyway. Elanor appears with a real gun and shoots him in the chest, though when she's gone he gets back up anyway, the survival patch in his pocket having stopped the bullet. The Hitcher has a change of heart and decides not to kill Howard and Vince, and they form an uneasy truce._

_Naboo and Bollo return from their weekend away, none the wiser about everything that happened while they were gone. Vince goes to visit Leroy in his French ski lodge, but as he grabs his bag from the side of the counter, several cans of spray paint fall out onto the floor, revealing him to be the graffiti artist. Howard is furious, but before he can do anything Student Loans turn up to take him away._

**Doing Business**

It was almost night time by the time Howard was finally released from his interrogation by Student Loans; the setting sun casting a dusky pinkish glow over the usually grey landscape and reflecting in the orange rust of the buildings. The urban beauty of his surroundings, however, did little to ease Howard's bad mood. There was only one thought on his mind as he stomped determinedly towards the Nabootique:

_Kill Vince._

It had become something of a mantra over the last few hours, the only thing that had kept him (relatively) sane during the infinite questions that seemed to go round in never-ending circles. The mantra, and the images that had come with it: Vince gasping and choking as Howard's fingers closed around his throat, the look of sheer terror that would shine out of those wide blue eyes as he pleaded with Howard to stop…

The man in question, Howard saw as he drew nearer, was standing outside the shop with his head down as he texted someone on his mobile, apparently not having noticed the older man yet. Howard's heart sped up a little in spite of himself when he saw what Vince was wearing; a slightly piratical loose white shirt with long, billowing sleeves, his favourite red cowboy boots… but the thing that really affected Howard's pulse rate was the skintight leather trousers that left _very _little to the imagination. In fact, he just looked as though his legs has been dipped in black ink and left to dry. He was stunning, even more so than usual, and Howard couldn't help wondering with a slight pang of envy what he had planned that merited such dressing up.

Vince looked up as he became aware of Howard's presence, his face breaking out into one of his trademark beaming smiles.

"'Ey, Howard!" He greeted enthusiastically, as though nothing was wrong. As though Howard hadn't just been through hours of pain and torture. For a moment, Howard felt his own mouth stretching into a smile, a friendly response already formulated on the tip of his tongue. Then his gaze shifted from Vince to the shutters behind him, still covered with obscene graffiti, and he felt the heady rush of anger surge back in full force.

_Yes. That's it. Focus on the anger._

Vince might be beautiful, but looks could be deceiving. Howard was done being fooled by his cute-and-innocent act. He had a heart of pure stone, that one. And he knew now that Vince was nowhere near as dumb as he pretended to be, either. There was a cold, calculating mind inside that fluffy head of his.

"Howard? You okay?"

"No, I'm _not _fucking okay!" Howard growled, with a vehemence that surprised even him, and before he had even taken the conscious decision to move a muscle, he had seized Vince by the throat and slammed him up against the shutters, the force of impact causing the metal to shake in its holdings. An expression of shock and fear momentarily took hold of Vince's face, his kohl-rimmed eyes widening to cartoonish proportions, before his features relaxed into the familiar, all-knowing smirk that Howard had really grown to hate recently.

The younger man raised one eyebrow, as if in challenge, and then muttered a single word:

"Kinky."

Howard half-screamed with frustration, shaking him hard as though to bring him out of his warped fantasy world. He was furious; more so than he ever remembered being in his life. Furious with Vince for being so damned smug and flippant and always having a smart answer for everything, when all Howard wanted was just a little respect.

"Shut up!" He hissed, hating how out of control his voice sounded. "You don't - you don't _talk_ now, Vince, you listen. You _listen _to me, for once in your life!"

Vince rolled his eyes. "What's your problem, Howard?"

"My _problem?! _My _problem, _Vince, is _you_. You never have any respect for me. You - you advertised me as a _prostitute, _for God's sake! You set me up with that _awful _woman, and I trusted you, because you told me it was the only way to get the money we needed. But when I needed you, where were you, Vince? Off tagging some useless celebrity wannabe to make even more from your ridiculous business. _One_ thing you were supposed to do for me, Vince - _one thing! - _and you couldn't even do that! You're such a selfish _bitch!"_

Vince made a faint gasping sound, and Howard realized he'd been squeezing his throat tighter and tighter throughout that little rant. He reluctantly loosened his hold, before he caused any serious damage. He wished he hadn't, though, when Vince immediately began talking.

"I saved your life, you ungrateful shit. _Again. _Or did you want that green nut job to slice you up? Maybe you did. Maybe that's exactly what your problem is - you just can't wait for the whole of your pathetic, miserable, _useless _life to come to an end, and I keep getting in the way. _So _sorry, Howard. I won't let it happen again."

"You little -" Howard's temper got a hold of him and he drew his fist back sharply - then paused, locking eyes with Vince. His face was still a blank mask of cool, calm collectedness, but there was an odd look in his eyes, something Howard had never seen before and was fairly certain he didn't want to see again. It was something dark, unnameable, and wholly unpleasant. A swirling mixture of defiance, amusement, and… lust?

No, that couldn't be right.

But it was.

Vince was getting off on this.

"Go on, then." He said, voice dangerously soft and low. "Hit me. It's what you want. I deserve it, don't I, Howard? For being such a _selfish bitch_. Do it. It'll make you feel so much better. Hit me."

He jutted his chin forwards, as though saying _'I dare you'. _It was then Howard realized that even though Vince was pinned against the wall by his neck, he was still very much in control of the situation. It was that thought that truly drove Howard over the edge, and without even registering what he was doing, he arced his hand forward to connect with Vince's jaw, producing a satisfying _crack! _He released his hold at the same time, and the smaller man crumpled bonelessly to the floor, and lay still.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. It was as though time itself had stopped. Howard stared at his still-clenched fist as though it were no longer a part of him, an alien thing attached to his body. He still couldn't quite believe what had happened.

He'd hit Vince. _He'd _hit Vince. He'd _hit _Vince. He'd hit _Vince._

He could have killed himself.

Then, very slowly, Vince pulled himself up into a sitting position. His eyes were very big as he looked up at Howard, and even he couldn't hide the hurt shining clearly out of them. And fear. There was fear, too. Howard's stomach clenched. He was pretty sure he'd never seen Vince scared of _anything _before, not properly scared, anyway. And yet here he was, scared of Howard, the man who was supposed to be his best friend. He reached up a shaky hand to touch the red mark already forming where he'd been struck.

"Vince -"

"You - you hit me!" He squeaked, as though he couldn't quite believe it. Howard couldn't believe it, either. Didn't want to.

"Vince, I…" He trailed off helplessly, not knowing what to say that could make things right again. The biggest part of him believed that it was far too late for that now, they _couldn't _make things right. Vince continued to stare at him for what seemed like hours.

Then he jumped to his feet and ran off as fast as he could in the opposite direction, the sound of his boots clattering on the pavement echoing after him as he was swallowed by the twilight.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Vince stormed furiously down the street, clenching his hands so hard that his nails bit into his palms. He wasn't angry at Howard, though that would probably come later. But right now, the anger was directed solely at himself. For treating Howard so badly in the first place. For continuing to torment him, even when he was clearly agitated. But most importantly, for how turned on he was by Howard's attack on him. He had no doubt that domination fantasies would soon be joining his ever-growing list of Howard-related dreams.

Yes, for the past few weeks, Vince had been dreaming almost constantly of Howard. While Howard showing up in his subconscious wasn't _particularly _unusual - they had, after all, been practically inseparable for the last ten years - these were different. These were _sexual _dreams. _Romantic _dreams. The kind of dreams that had him waking up fully aroused and drenched in sweat. And he'd been having them ever since their little encounter on that godforsaken island.

_Only, that wasn't real either, was it? _A snide voice pointed out in the back of his mind. _That was just another dream._

Maybe a dream, or, as was more likely, a hallucination brought on by rancid coconuts. Vince didn't think he'd ever be able to eat another Bounty again. Either way, Howard clearly either didn't remember the incident, or was so mortified by it he couldn't bring himself to mention it. Whichever way you looked at it, Vince was the loser.

He ruffled his hair absently and tried to slip into his usual, vapid persona as he approached his destination. The Velvet Onion was a new club that had recently opened in the area, and he had booked an interview with the new manager in the vain hope that he would be signed up to play a few gigs. They could definitely use the money - after he had blown his three thousand euros on that Mexican ant ring, they were well short of being able to pay off the rent deadline looming over them.

"Sorry, love." The solitary bouncer greeted him as he approached the entrance, looking down at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. "We can't be 'avin' your kind in 'ere."

_My kind? _Vince had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he was tired, fed up, miserable, and _really _not in the mood for this. The bouncer was at least twice his size, towering over the smaller man by a whole foot and packed solid with muscle. He probably scraped bigger things than Vince off the soles of his boots, but he was no match for the full Noir diva treatment.

"Do you know who I am?" He snarled, stamping his foot on the pavement. "I'm Vince fucking Noir, and I'm having a _really _bad day. I have an appointment with the manager right now, so how's about you let me in before it gets all over town that you're screwing your boss behind your wife's back?"

Whether or not the claim had any truth to it was entirely irrelevant. The point was that Vince had the power to make everyone this side of the Thames believe it, should he so desire. The bouncer's eyes widened, and he swallowed audibly.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Noir, I didn't recognize you." He stammered nervously. "Go right through, the manger's office is down the corridor at the back, you can't miss it."

With one final angry glare, Vince pushed his way inside, unable to help a slight smirk. Being Dalston's accidental 'It Boy' did have _some _perks.

_You don't exactly hate it, do you, Vince? _He asked himself.

The smile soon slipped from his face, however, replaced by a grimace as he was overpowered by the stifling atmosphere of the club. It was relatively small inside, but the dancefloor was packed with scantily-clad bodies grinding against each other. The walls were lined with various snogging couples, some of them looking as though thet might start having sex right there and then. Vince felt a surge of disgust, a hint of amusement, and a slight pang of envy, and focused his attention on the stage instead. There was a band stumbling around playing their instruments out-of-sync, the singer yelling out the words to a song that was vaguely familiar, but so mangled Vince couldn't place it. Moments later, he was able to recognize it as a very poor cover of Soft Cell's 'Tainted Love'.

"_Don't touch me puh-lease, I cannot stand the way you tease…" _The singer begged in his screechy voice. Vince rolled his eyes at the irony of his lyrics. Lately it seemed as though everywhere he went, there was a song playing to fit his mood.

Taking a detour to the bathroom, he realized exactly why the bouncer hadn't recognized him as he studied his reflection critically. He also now knew what had been meant by 'his kind'. The guy had clearly thought him to be either a prostitute or a crackhead. Or both. He wasn't sure just now which option was preferable, but either way, he was a mess.

The right knee of his leather pants was scuffed from where he'd hit the deck. One side of his collar was sticking straight up, while the other side was rolled under completely. He had dark smudges of make-up under his eyelids and streaked halfway down his cheeks. But the worst thing - the _worst _thing - was the shocking crimson welt that had risen on his jaw from where Howard had walloped him.

_Bloody Howard. If I lose out on this interview 'cause of 'im, I'll kill 'im. I'll batter 'im to death with 'is own moody jazz records. I'll tape earphones playing Gary Numan 24/7 to 'is 'ead till it explodes. I'll… I'll pin 'im to the floor and cover every inch of 'im with kisses till he's beggin' for mercy…_

_No! Shut up, brain, you're not in charge 'ere._

'_Course I am, don't be ridiculous. Besides, I'm only telling you what you already know._

_When did you get so smug, anyway? S'not like you're any better, is it?_

"Get ahold of yourself, Vincent; you're losing it." He muttered aloud, tugging at the ends of his hair as though it was the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity. He splashed his face with cold water from the tap and gazed back up at his reflection in the cracked mirror, trying to see it in a slightly more positive light. Okay, so maybe he couldn't do much about the bruise, but the rest could be fixed easily enough. By the time he had straightened his collar and re-applied his make-up, he was feeling slightly better. He was bound to look worse under these UV lights anyway - everyone knew that.

With one last re-styling of the hair for good measure, Vince took a deep breath and stepped out of the sanctuary of the bathroom, heading for the manager's office. He knocked on the door once and waited for the reply.

"Yeah, yeah, come in, why don'tcha, the door's open all night."

Vince frowned and hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. For some reason, that obnoxious American voice struck a familiar chord within him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It clicked a second later, however, when the door swung open to reveal that hideous blue safari suit stretched over a rounded body, an explosion of curly hair and the manic glint only seen in the eyes of someone not altogether sane.

"_Fossil?!"_

"Vincey baby! How've you been, sweet cheeks?!"

The shouted greeting sent a chill down Vince's spine as a series of rapid-fire images shot through his mind's eye; Howard, facing off against the kangaroo, strapped to an operating table. Fossil dressed in a priest's robes as he performed that shambolic funeral ceremony. Vince himself burning up with rage and humiliation as he was openly mocked by his superiors… an anguished Howard being held back by Fossil as Bainbridge held a gun to his head.

Words could not convey the hatred he felt for this man.

"But you… you were in the asylum!"

"Looks like I got let out early for good behaviour! Now, pull up a pew." He indicated the chair opposite his own. Vince remained where he was. "What can I do you for?"

"You knew it was me, didn't you? When I arranged the interview. You knew it was me, and you didn't say anything!"

"Mayhaps I did, mayhaps I didn't. Mayhaps that's not the issue, here. The issue is what _you're_ doing... here."

Vince weighed up the options slowly in his mind. He _did _really need the money. And without Bainbridge around, how dangerous could Fossil be, really? The man was an idiot. Maybe they could put aside their earlier differences, for the sake of business. He hesitated for about a second longer, before sitting down in the empty chair.

"Alright. I need to play some gigs here. As soon as possible."

Fossil spun a coin on the desk, leaning forwards into Vince's personal space. "And, what, exactly, would I be getting from this little deal?"

"Um… money?"

The other man snorted and leaned back in his chair, spinning on it lazily. "Oh, Vincey. Vincey, Vincey, Vincey. Still so young. Take a look around. Money's one thing I'm not short of. I've got myself a regular entrepreneurial business going on, here."

Every shred of pride in Vince's body was yelling at him to walk away and refuse to spend any more of his time on Fossil, but then he thought of what Naboo would say in a week's time when the rent was due, and decided that maybe it was time to swallow that pride.

"I… look, please?" He asked, trying to look beguiling whilst squirming from the indignity of having to beg to Fossil. "For old times' sake? I _really _need the money. I'll do anything."

"Would you dance for it?"

"Would I… _what?!"_

"You heard. You said you'd do anything. I want to know whether you'd shake that fabulous booty of yours in exchange for some time on my stage."

"No. No way. Just… never in a million years!" There was no way he was going to stoop that low. He still had _some _shame left.

"No?" Fossil echoed, suddenly dropping all pretences at friendliness. "'Cause, you know, if you don't dance, Noir, you can't sing. And if you can't sing, it looks like you're out all by yourself again on the cold, dark streets. Am I right?"

Vince's eyes narrowed. "Have you been _spying _on me?"

"Now, would I do such a thing?"

"Oh, there's nothing you wouldn't do."

"I'm hurt. Now, what's it to be? Should I call security and have 'em haul your ass outta here?"

"How much money are we talking? If I agree?"

"I could give you five hundred euros a show. Maybe more, depends on how well it goes."

Five hundred euros a show… Vince swallowed heavily. _Wow. _That was a _lot _of money. Even if he only did two shows a week… well, he was never very good at maths, but he knew enough to be able to work out that his and Howard's rent problems would be pretty much solved for the rest of their lives. He couldn't believe he was even considering this, but he'd done worse things in his time than performing a little strip show every now and then so Fossil could get his jollies. Much worse. His past was littered with all kinds of dark and sordid secrets, some of which Howard knew, most of which Vince tried to protect him from. The point was, Vince was a survivor, and sometimes you have to do some pretty distasteful things to survive in this world.

"Fine. Fine, I'll do it, I'll do whatever you want me to. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"No-one ever finds out about this. I mean it, Fossil. This conversation does _not _leave this room."

Fossil mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. "Your secret's safe with me, my little sugar-plum fairy." He stroked a hand up Vince's arm in a way that confirmed what he had already suspected - that 'dancing' was a euphemism for something else. "How about giving me a little demonstration?"

Vince closed his eyes for a moment, feeling physically sick. It was funny how things came around full circle - just days ago he had been advertising Howard as a prostitute on the shop shutters. Years before that, he had accused his friend of being 'Fossil's bitch'. And now look at him.

_Just think of Howard. Think of Howard, and you'll get through this._

- - - - - X - - - - -

It was properly dark by the time Vince arrived back at the shop. He was walking oddly, Howard noted as he drew nearer. Kind of stiffly. There was a very un-Vince-like slump to his shoulders, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. It made Howard feel almost guilty for what he was about to do. Almost. But not quite.

"Where do you think you're going?" He demanded as Vince attempted to get past him into the shop.

"Bed." The reply came in a dull, flat monotone, with no trace of sarcasm or humour, or any indication at all that Vince was capable of human emotion. Howard wondered briefly if the younger man had been replaced by his evil robot twin or something. He winced as his gaze caught on Vince's bruised face, before he had to look away. He didn't think he'd ever stop beating himself up about that.

"Not yet, you're not. You're scrubbing all that filth off the shutters, first." He pointed down at their feet, indicating the bowl of soapy water he'd prepared earlier.

"Oh, Howard, can't it wait? It's the middle of the night, and I'm tired… I just want to go to bed. I'll do it in the morning, I promise."

"Yeah, you won't, though, will you? Come morning, you'll just make up another ridiculous excuse and keep putting it off so it never gets done. If you do it now, it'll be over and done with."

"C'mon, Howard, I said I was sorry!" Vince whined, his voice doing that thing it often did when he was upset or agitated where it went all high and cracked, making him sound more like a pre-pubescent boy than a grown man.

"That's not good enough anymore, Vince." Howard replied sadly. "You're _always _saying sorry. Now you need to _show _me you are. And you can start by cleaning the shutters."

Vince opened his mouth again to say something else, then clamped it shut, a defiant glint coming into his eyes. Without another word, he picked up the sponge an got to work.

Howard watched him for a while, noticing the way the pale streetlamps picked out the subtle hints of red shot through Vince's hair. He wondered when he'd gotten that done. Had Vince told him about it? Howard couldn't remember. There had been a time not so very long ago when Vince would run every minute aspect of his appearance by Howard at least twenty times, just to make sure he had the older man's approval. What had happened to them?

After several minutes of unbearable silence, Howard gave up and went back into the shop. Vince finished nearly ten minutes later, slamming the bowl down on the counter. He gave Howard one last filthy glance before tossing his head and flouncing haughtily up to the flat.

Howard waited until he was absolutely sure Vince was asleep before following him up. He opened the bedroom door cautiously, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the small form absolutely motionless on his bed. Not entirely sure what he was doing, Howard crouched down on the floor beside his friend, just watching him rest. The peaceful, serene expression on his face was a stark contrast to how tired and world-weary he had begun to look during the day. Even when he was trying to be light and casual, Howard could see the dark weight just behind his eyes that never seemed to really go away.

Sighing, he gently touched his fingers to the mark he'd made when he'd hit the smaller man. He still couldn't quite believe he'd done that. He'd never thought things between them would get this bad. He'd spent so long ignoring their problems that now, just as he was finally facing up to them, it looked as though it might be too late to fix them.

Vince began to move in his sleep, and Howard quickly withdrew his hand. He found himself biting back a gasp as the other man rolled onto his side. The much-too-large t-shirt he wore to bed had ridden up slightly, revealing a glorious, horrific-looking bruise that discoloured most of his ribs.

Howard was dealing with some heavy guilt, but he was pretty sure he wasn't responsible for _that._ He suddenly felt a little sick. What exactly had happened between their little spat earlier and Vince traipsing up the road looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders?

Vince shifted again, mumbling something nonsensical in his sleep, and it suddenly occurred to Howard how it would look if he woke up now. With a heavy sigh, he climbed into his own bed, lying very still and trying hard not to think.

* * *

**A/N: **Eep! Please don't kill me!


	16. Inside Out

**Author's Rambling: **'Ello, who's this stranger? Yes, I realize it's been so long since I last updated that a lot of you probably don't even recognize me, and for that I am so, _so _sorry. I've just had so much going on lately - I've had some personal stuff to deal with, then I went back to school and had coursework and college applications to contend with, I got sick a couple of weeks ago, and I guess the time just caught up to me. These are all excuses I realize none of you are probably very interested in hearing, but they are my excuses nonetheless. I'm also painfully aware of the amount of reviews I owe people, and I really need to get on top of that, too. I know I suck. I'm sorry.

Anyway. Thanks as ever to the people who have been reviewing this. I hope you enjoy this latest addition.

* * *

'_**Journey to the Centre of the Punk' episode recap: **__Howard is excited when his new jazz record arrives; costing him a thousand euros, 'Voodoo Scat' by Howling Jimmy Jefferson is hermetically sealed in air from the 50s and comes in its own 'special house'. Vince is openly mocking and acts unusually rude and aggressive. When Howard questions this change in his behaviour, Vince claims that he is a punk now, and lead singer of the band Terminal Margaret._

_Vince's bandmates arrive at the shop and immediately begin to bully Howard. They take the record from its display case and toss it between one another. Vince catches it, and the punks urge him to smash it. He seems torn, before giving in and biting into the record._

_Howard goes to the Vinyl Doctor, a record shop owned by his blind jazz friend Lester Corncrake, to see whether Lester can help him put the record back together. They soon realize that there is still a piece missing, and return to the shop to find it. When they have no luck, they begin to consider the possibility Vince might have swallowed it. Meanwhile, the punks turn on Vince when he mysteriously starts scatting in the middle of their gig. Thankfully Naboo and Bollo are in the audience and take him back to the shop, where Howard translates Vince's scat-speak and reveals that the jazz record has poisoned him._

_Lester realizes that the record was made with the blood of Howling Jimmy Jefferson, and now everything that is Vince is being turned to jazz. Naboo announces that the only way to save Vince is to shrink someone down to a molecular level and inject them into his bloodstream in a miniature submarine, and Howard reluctantly agrees, persuaded by an enthusiastic Lester. They are provided with an anti-jazz harpoon with which the rogue jazz cell can be killed._

_As the submarine is injected into Vince's bloodstream, the jazz virus is slowly killing the cells in his body one by one. Howard and Lester in the submarine are stopped by Vince's immune system, which assumes they are the ones responsible for harming Vince. Howard manages to win them over with a crimp, and he is taken to the brain._

_Howard's attempts to reason with Vince's lone, easily distracted brain cell are mostly unsuccessful, and in desperation he shoves the cell into a cupboard to deal with the jazz virus himself. Howard chases it to the submarine, where he attempts to kill it with the harpoon. He finds he can't however, when the jazz cell reveals they are related._

_Naboo and Bollo realize Howard and Lester are running out of time, and extract the submarine from Vince's tear duct. They are all zapped back to full size in the shop - along with the jazz virus, who, after killing the punks, turns on Howard and the others. Awakened from his jazz trance, Vince has a rare brainwave, and throws his punk-infected safety pin to Lester, who stabs the jazz virus with it._

**Inside Out**

Howard took a moment to bask in his newfound glory, standing proud in the centre of the shop floor. In that one moment, he could forget that he was dressed in a ridiculous scuba-diving outfit, and even that his precious jazz record had been destroyed. He, Howard Moon, had saved Vince's life for once, instead of the other way around. He was a real Man of Action. And, by God, it had been a long time coming.

"…There's only one thing wrong, Howard," Naboo was saying in his usual detatched tone. "You've come back to normal size, but your eyes have remained miniature."

…And then Howard came crashing back down to earth so effectively, he could have sworn the he heard a _thud _as he landed. Vince snickered nastily, and the twinge of irritation grew to an all-consuming fury. Of _course _what he'd done would go unappreciated. Of _course _they didn't see him as some great hero - he'd been stupid to think otherwise. To them, he'd never be anything other than one huge, cosmic joke.

"That's a funny joke." He snapped sarcastically, still trying to maintain some grip on his self control. "Thank you, yeah…"

The others continued to laugh as Howard rambled on, mostly to himself, all too aware of the fact he probably looked like a depraved lunatic. Even Lester joined in poking fun at his expense. He felt his face grow warm, not just from anger, but humiliation, too. He almost wished he hadn't bothered to save Vince now, if this was how he expressed his gratitude.

_You don't mean that._

No, he didn't mean it, however much he wished he did; and that was the problem, really, wasn't it? No matter how much Vince might deserve it, Howard could never fully hate him. Because there was always a part of him that was still the fresh-faced, bright-eyed zookeeper who viewed the world with such wonder and made the darkest of days seem light. Howard felt sure that, if he could just reach that part of Vince, everything would get back to how it should be. Trouble was, he had no idea how to go about that. Even after being literally inside Vince's head, he had no idea how to break through his shallow exterior and reach the real person underneath.

Only, it was hard for Howard to remain optimistic after his most recent adventure. He was supposed to be Vince's best friend, yet half of the cells in the younger man's body hadn't even recognized him. And there was one memory in particular that he hadn't been able to shake, something that Vince's lone brain cell had mentioned so casually, almost in passing:

"_I do swing both ways, but I'm not really feeling it with you."_

The news about Vince's sexuality hadn't exactly come as a revelation to Howard - while it wasn't exactly something they discussed over tea, Vince was hardly discreet. No, it was the latter half of the statement that Howard kept turning over in his mind - proof, direct from Vince's brain itself, that he had never, _would _never think of Howard in that way. And it had nothing to do with the fact that Howard was another man - Vince just simply wasn't interested in him. Vince was gorgeous, perfect - he had hundreds of people literally fawning over him every day. Why would he ever even _consider _Howard romantically when he could have his pick of anyone he wanted?

Speaking of Vince, he was no longer laughing, but rather, looking decidedly pale, and clutching at his throat with a funny expression on his face.

"Urgh…" He groaned. "I don't feel -"

What, exactly, it was that Vince 'didn't feel', Howard would never know, for the sentence died on his lips with an awful, rattling sound as he suddenly began choking, gasping in great lungfuls of air. The look in his eyes was wild and terrified as his gaze met Howard's. Any previous anger Howard felt towards him disappeared completely as he rushed to Vince's side.

"Vince?" He queried, grabbing the other man's hand. His skin was like ice to the touch, yet his face was dangerously flushed and feverish. Vince reached up and gripped a fistful of tight material from Howard's suit, clinging to him fiercely.

"Vince, what's wrong? You're scaring me."

"God, I… can't… breathe."

His voice sounded so small and frightened. Howard was completely at a loss, here, and he had to admit, he was more than a little concerned. Naboo had promised that Vince would be okay now. So what the hell was going on?

"Shh, yes you can, come on."

Without knowing why, exactly, Howard began rubbing Vince's back, his hand moving in slow, smooth circles. After a few moments - and much to his relief - Vince's gasping began to subside, his breathing coming a little easier. His iron grip on Howard's suit relaxed slightly, and Howard let out a breath of his own he didn't even know he'd been holding.

"Better now?"

Vince nodded weakly. Not even really aware he was doing it, Howard cupped the side of Vince's face with his hand. Much to his surprise, Vince leaned into the touch. In contrast to the coolness of his hand, the skin was like fire, and Howard felt a fresh wave of worry consume him. Vince swooned suddenly, and Howard moved to catch him, laying him gently back down on the counter.

"Howard…?" Vince whispered. He looked as though just keeping his eyes open was a tremendous struggle.

"I'm here." Howard leaned closer to hear him, gently pushing Vince's sweaty fringe back from his forehead.

"You… really saved me?"

"Always, little man." The old endearment slipped out without his consent. Howard could only hope that Vince would be too out of it to remember this conversation in the future.

"Howard… I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"…Everything."

Howard didn't quite know what to say to that. Fortunately, he didn't have to say _anything_, as Vince reached up and touched his shoulder, lost in his own little fever-world.

"The scuba look…" He mused, almost to himself. A slight half-smile graced his face. "…Suits you."

"He must be delirious with fever." Naboo deadpanned.

Howard jumped, having completely forgotten that the others were even still there. He turned to glare over his shoulder at Naboo for breaking the moment between them - whatever it had been. When he looked back down again, Vince was unconscious.

"What's wrong with him?" Howard asked, trying without much success to keep the fear from his voice.

"I told you, he's fine." Naboo replied indifferently. "His body is just trying to repair the damage that the jazz cell did."

"You know, if you need anyone to take a look at him, I'm a qualified doctor, Howard." Lester added.

Howard stared at him. "You're a _vinyl _doctor, Lester."

"Naw, that's just semantics. Did I ever tell you about the time I fixed a man's broken spine using just my sense of smell?"

"Yeah, Lester, could you just _go, _please?"

"Suit yourself." Lester shrugged.

Once he'd gone, Howard turned his attention back to Vince, stroking his hair almost absent-mindedly. After what could have been any length of time, he looked back up at Naboo.

"Are you sure he's going to be okay?"

Naboo rolled his large eyes. "He's gonna be _fine, _Howard. Trust me, I'm a shaman."

Howard nodded once, and then headed upstairs to get changed out of this stupid suit, forcing himself to grow indifferent once again.

- - - - - X - - - - -

When Vince woke up some time later, he was momentarily disoriented by the bright sunlight streaming through the window - _wait, how could it be morning already?_ - and it took him a few minutes to register that he was now curled up in his own bed, tucked neatly under the duvet. Someone must have moved him in his sleep, he realized, not without a sense of gratitude - there was no telling what that counter would have done to his back.

He also noted that he was now in his pyjamas, and it dawned on him that that same person must also have undressed him without his knowing or consent. In all likelihood, it was probably Naboo or Bollo, but that didn't stop the warm heat that spread through him at the thought that Howard might be responsible. Though he wasn't entirely sure whether or not this reaction indicated his approval of the idea. Yes, Howard had seen what he had to offer a million times before, and Vince couldn't deny that Howard and the removal of clothes were things he fantasized about on a regular basis, but in his fantasies he had always been conscious for the act. This was different, somehow - the notion that Howard could have done such things while he was unaware left him feeling vulnerable - a feeling he wasn't used to, and was fairly certain he didn't like.

He sat up gingerly, wincing as a spike of pain lanced through his head. Whatever had been going on in there, it couldn't have been good. He felt worse than he did that time he and Leroy went on a thirty-two hour drinks bender and wound up so pissed, they woke up on a park bench the next morning wearing plastic buckets as hats… And maybe it wasn't such a good idea to think of alcohol right now, he reasoned, riding out a wave of nausea and willing himself not to be sick.

Once the feeling had passed, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, checking to make sure he wasn't going to collapse again before getting dressed and heading down to the shop in search of Howard.

As it turned out, he didn't have to look very far, for he spotted the older man as soon as he emerged at the bottom of the stairs. Howard was staring forlornly at the pieces of his broken record, the light from the counter casting a sickly green glow over his features. Vince felt the guilt-knife that seemed to have become permanently lodged in his heart twist a little further at the reminder of what he had done. Some 'best friend' he was. It looked as though he had some serious grovelling to do. He coughed slightly, announcing his presence.

"Alright?"

Howard looked up and smiled at him, catching Vince off-guard. The smile made him feel worse, if that was possible - it was polite enough, but there was no warmth or recognition behind it. It was a hollow, automatic movement, the empty shell of an expression.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

Vince was overcome with sudden, insane urge to laugh and cry at the same time. Howard did sound genuinely concerned for his welfare, but it was the concern of a kindly stranger who had just seen an old lady take a tumble in the street, rather than someone whose best friend had been on the brink of death only yesterday. Vince almost wished Howard would shout and scream at him - at least that was familiar. He could deal with anger from the other man by just getting angry in return, but this strange, automaton-like Howard, he had no idea how to handle.

"Vince?"

Vince blinked, suddenly realizing that Howard had asked him a question and was therefore probably expecting an answer.

"A little better. I've got one hell of a blinder, though. How long was I out for?"

"Oh, about…eighteen hours? I expect the rest probably did you good."

"Yeah, I think it did."

"Good. That's good."

Howard turned back to the broken pieces of his record, leaving Vince to blink at him in total confusion. Okay. What the fuck was that? 'That' being the strange, ping-pong like quality of their conversation, batting empty pleasantries between one another. When did talking with Howard become so awkward and stilted? He sighed, remembering that he was supposed to be apologizing.

"Howard… M'sorry."

"Vince, don't." Howard breathed. He was obviously struggling to keep a grip on his self-control, clutching the edge of the counter so hard, his knuckles were turning white. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, Vince crept closer. He longed to reach out and touch the older man, but didn't dare. He had a feeling that would be pushing it just a little too far.

God, but he was hard to resist, though. The thing about Howard was, unlike so many good-looking people, he had literally no idea just how handsome he was. In retrospect, it was probably all those years of living in Vince's shadow that had done that to him. But that ignorance just served to make him all the more attractive, at least in Vince's eyes. And, apart from just wanting to touch him, Vince genuinely did want to put things right between them. He missed that closeness they used to share, back at the zoo and before then. He thought that at this stage, he would give just about anything to get that closeness back, but the cynical little voice at the back of his mind - the one he tried to ignore most of the time - told him that it was now much too late.

"I _am _sorry, though." He pushed on with his apology in spite of Howard's warning not to, acting on some perverse desire to explain himself and seek forgiveness even though he knew in his heart of hearts that it wasn't deserved.

"What I did to you… well, I shouldn't 'ave done it. I didn't even want to, but I couldn't 'elp myself. Not that that's any excuse. It's like there's some other person taking me over and making me do these _awful _things to you. And… I shouldn't 'ave eaten your record."

"Yeah, well… you've learnt your lesson, haven't you?"

Howard was no longer making forced attempts at politeness, but instead avoiding eye contact all together. Vince wasn't entirely sure which was worse.

"That ain't gonna make things any better."

"Well, Vince, if it helps your guilty conscience, the next time you come across a thousand euros, you can hand it straight to me, okay?" Howard snapped, clearly losing his temper now. Vince backed off slightly, palms raised in surrender, but he couldn't say that he didn't deserve the blow. He paused and bit his lip, unsure of whether to continue or not.

"Howard…?"

"What _now?"_

"I just… you saved my life. So thank you."

"Yeah, well." Howard replied gruffly. "I s'pose that means we're even now. You've done it for me enough times, it's about time it went the other way for once."

"You didn't have to do it, though. Honestly, I don't even know _why _you did it."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe it was because you're just a little bit more important to me than a rare jazz record?"

Vince stared at him in shock. He had no idea what to say to that, but it made him feel both warm with pleasure and incredibly guilty at the same time. How many more times would Howard forgive him before he finally realized how much better off he would be without Vince around?

"Really?" He managed to squeak finally, embarrassed at how girlish and immature he sounded.

"Really. Look, Vince. I can't say that I can forget what you did, and I can't deny that it hurt. But I don't know how you would even think that I could just stand by and watch you die. And… well, I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah, thanks to you. I guess you really _do _know me inside and out now."

Vince froze with the implication of his words, a shiver creeping up his spine. He didn't exactly know why, but all of a sudden he felt abused. Violated. Howard had literally been inside his mind - he could have had access to certain information, discovered things about Vince that _no-one _was supposed to know about, not even Vince himself. It was like a kind of mental rape.

"So, you were inside me? What was that like?" He asked faux-casually, then cringed. Even to his own ears, it sounded like a line from a badly scripted porn film.

Howard shrugged, waving his hands about as he struggled to articulate himself. "I dunno… Weird. I found one thing out, though - you really do fancy yourself just as much as I'd always thought."

Vince flushed, but kept quiet. The comment stung, but he knew it was just Howard's way of getting back at him slightly - and more than understandably. But there was still more to come.

"And I have to admit, you're not exactly blessed with brains, either. I mean, here was me, always going on about how there must be some 'hidden depth' to you. Well, congratulations, Vince - you really are as shallow as you like to make out."

Howard had now completely lost his grip on the temper he had been working so hard to control, lashing out bitterly at Vince. And Vince, however sorry he might have been, was not generally the kind of person who could stand there and take being humiliated.

"Howard, stop it." He pleaded quietly. "That's not fair."

"Not fair?!" Howard shot out of his chair and began pacing wildly. "No, I'll tell you what's 'not fair', Vince - it's not fair the way you act around me. I mean, one minute you're all over me and then the next, it's like you don't even want to know me. I never know where I am with you any more. I know you're hiding something from me."

"Oh, and that's not allowed, is it?" Now it was Vince's turn to be angry, as he shouted across the shop floor at Howard. "I have to run everything by you, do I, tell you everything in my life? I used to do that, remember, Howard? But you never listened, you always laughed and told me not to be so stupid -"

"Vince, I never -"

"_Yes, _you _did, _Howard! You never really acted as though you liked me or wanted me around, it was always 'shut up, Vince', 'don't touch me, Vince'. You spent so long pushing me away, and now you act all surprised and hurt that I found other friends, and got a life of my own that doesn't centre around _you!_ Is it really such a surprise?!"

Vince didn't know quite how it had happened, but he had somehow ended up standing right in front of Howard, so that they were nose to nose - or rather, nose to chin. From this distance, Howard's eyes didn't seem quite so small anymore, and they were a lovely chocolatey brown colour. The expression in them seemed to convey a deep, painful sadness, but there was something else there too, something unnameable creeping in just around the edges. If Vince leaned up on his tiptoes, he would be able to taste Howard's lips. The urge to do so was almost overpowering, to test out how the reality would compare with the dreams that had been haunting his subconscious for weeks now…

Instead, a shrill mobile phone ringtone to the tune of 'Cars' pervaded the silence, effectively bursting the bubble that seemed to have built up around them. Howard backed away, shaking his head and looking slightly dazed. Within seconds, his strange expression had vanished, replaced by the blank look again as he returned to his place by the counter.

Vince scouted around for his phone, the ringing having stopped by the time he eventually located it hidden under a pile of enchanted mirrors. It didn't matter anyway - the message that had appeared on the tiny screen was enough to fill him with dread all by itself.

_One missed call - Fossil_

"I, um… I should probably call them back." He muttered to Howard apologetically.

Howard waved his arm in a gesture which seemed to say 'be my guest', and Vince fled from the room to find Naboo. He was fairly sure he couldn't cope with this much longer without having some kind of mental breakdown.

- - - - - X - - - - -

"…So you see, Naboo, I really need your 'elp." He finished some time later, after explaining his current situation to the shaman. Naboo took a long drag from his pipe before he said anything, leaving Vince to squirm under his searching gaze.

"Can't you just quit?" He asked finally, and Vince rolled his eyes, irritated in spite of himself. What was the point in living with a so-called enigma if they offered unhelpful advice like that?

"Cause I need the money." He pointed out flatly. "Where d'you think your next rent cheque's coming from? Not from the shop, we haven't had a customer for weeks!"

"Hmm. What makes you think I can help you?"

"You were Fossil's aide back at the zoo, weren't you?"

"Before I was demoted to kiosk vendor, yeah." Naboo shrugged.

"Well didn't he tell you anything in that time?"

"I was in that position for seven years, Vince - he told me a lot of things."

God, this was like pulling teeth. "Did he tell you anything that might help me?"

Naboo sighed, a puff of smoke trailing forth from his lips. "Alright," He began, sounding resigned. "C'mere."

Vince leaned closer, despite himself.

Naboo hesitated for a split second. Then he opened his mouth… and told Vince everything he needed to know.

- - - - - X - - - - -

"All righty, let's get down to the brass tacks. I'll be honest with you, Vincey, I'm disappointed. Last night wasn't one of your best gigs, was it?"

"No, Mr Fossil." Vince replied submissively, making sure to keep his head down and his voice low.

"Now, is there anything you'd like to say for yourself?"

"Yeah, actually." Vince looked up to meet his boss's gaze head-on. "I want my money."

Fossil stared at him incredulously. "I'm sorry, was I just talking Italian? You did hear what I just said, right?"

"Oh, I heard. But I don't think it's really going to make a difference now, anyway. Unless you want me to phone your mother?"

For a moment, a flash of something like fear flashed in Fossil's eyes, before it was chased away by a derisive snort. "That's pathetic, Noir. You're gonna phone my mommy? Please."

"I _know, _Fossil." Vince said coldly. "I know what she did to you. Locked you in the wardrobe for being bad. Poor Bobby…" He murmured faux-sympathetically. "It wasn't your fault, was it? You didn't know it was wrong to lift up that lady's skirt. You didn't understand. You were just playing a game…"

On the surface, Vince was calm and collected, but inside, his stomach was twisting up in knots. This was a little too close to home for him - he could sort of relate to parental issues, after all. But maybe he could use that to his advantage.

"See, I know what it's like," He continued, "My parents never cared about me, either. And it hurts, you know? Cause you just want to make them proud, and you don't understand that, no matter what you do, they're never, _ever _going to love you. It must be nice for you, being able to ring up dear old Mama Fossil every one in a while, pretending to be some big, heroic soldier stuck in a prisoner of war camp. 'Course, my mum's dead, so I wouldn't know much about that. Still, I reckon it must be nice. But what do you think she'd say if she found out it was all a lie, if she knew you were really just the manager of a seedy nightclub in London.

Vince paused for a second, and then grinned sadistically to deliver the killing blow.

"Shall we ring her and find out?"

All the colour had drained from Fossil's face now - he actually looked terrified.

"You wouldn't dare." He breathed.

"Wouldn't I?"

Vince pulled out his mobile and mimed punching in a number before putting it to his ear.

"Hey, is that Mrs Fossil?" He asked when he felt he'd waited an adequate amount of time.

"No!" Fossil yelped. He launched himself across the desk, trying to grab the phone, but Vince leaned back out of his reach.

"Yeah, I've got your son here -"

"_Vince!"_

"What? No, this isn't Vietnam - we're in England."

"Vincey, please, come on! I'll do anything."

Vince paused and glanced at Fossil. He was somewhat shocked to see that the other man was now blubbering like a baby, fat, salty tears rolling over his bloated cheeks. He felt an unexpected pang of pity, but quickly squashed it - Fossil didn't deserve an ounce of his sympathy. Very slowly, he removed the phone from his ear, pretending to hang up.

"You gonna give me that money now?"

Fossil nodded, and rooted in his desk drawers, still sniffling.

"Five hundred euros, right?" He thrust the wad of cash in Vince's direction. Vince counted the notes, and then paused, considering.

"Actually, I think I'll have another five hundred on top of that. Just, you know, so I know we understand each other."

"Come on, Vincey, be reasonable!" Fossil begged. "You can't do this, you'll run me out of business!"

"I'm sorry, do you want me to ring her back?"

Fossil paled, shook his head, and then handed over the rest of the money. Vince tucked into his jeans pocket with satisfaction. Now he would be able to pay back Howard.

"Just to make it clear, _I _call the shots in this business partnership now." He stated vehemently, turning back to the American. "Got it?"

Fossil nodded.

"Good boy." Vince patted him on the cheek, then hesitated, and slapped him hard across the face.

No-one was ever going to get to him like that again.

* * *

**A/N: **I just wanted to try and create a little sympathy for Fossil there, since I painted him so evilly in the last chapter. And I know that a lot of people were expecting me to go the mega-angsty route with this one, and I kinda skirted it a little, so I hope this was still okay. To be honest, I don't know whether it's just confidence issues with being absent for so long, but I'm not at all sure about this chapter. So, erm... yeah, reviews would be love.

I don't know when the next update will be - hopefully quite soon. There is a _very _slight chance I may be able to have it done tomorrow, though no guarantees. However, I promise promise _promise _that I won't leave it this long again.


	17. HurtComfort

**Author's Ramblings: **Yes, I know I said it would be a quick update... I'm sorry. I don't really have an excuse this time, either, apart from... life. Which is kind of lame. But on the bright side, it _is _an improvement on last time. Anyway, I've got some more lovely angst for you here, I'm afraid. But there is some fluff, too. Fluffy angst. Again, this chapter contains very vague references to abuse, although it's only implied because I prefer to leave things up to the readers' imagination. Also, I'm sorry for the rather abrupt chnage in perspective halfway through -I had very set ideas of which bits would come from which POV, but if I put scene-breaks in it would have felt too disconnected, so I just chucked it all in together. It only does it once, so hopefully it's not _too _confusing.

Anyway. That's enough from me.  
Enjoy the show.

- - - - - X - - - - -

**'The Power of the Crimp' episode recap:** _Vince is depressed when he realizes his style has been stolen by an impostor named Lance Dior. Howard attempts briefly to cheer him up, but his efforts fall short when Lance arrives at the shop and tries to steal Howard away from Vince. An angry Vince confronts Howard once the impostor has left, but Howard reassures him that he would never really have left him for Howard._

_Lance later returns with a man named 'Harold Boom', who looks, dresses and acts exactly the same as Howard. The doppelgangers reveal that they are playing a gig at the velvet onion later that evening - the same gig Vince and Howard were supposed to play._

_Vince goes to the Velvet Onion in order to smooth things over with Fossil, and , after a bit of blackmail, is able to obtain a slot on the bill._

_Howard and Vince attempt to work on their new song, but proceedings are disrupted when Harold and Lance make an unwelcome visit and tell them they're going about it all wrong - retro is the new thing. In desperation, Howard and Vince launch into a crimp, which only serves to baffle the 'Flighty Zeus'. After they leave, Vince tries to find a look for himself and Howard, but is suffering from fashion block after receiving such a knock to his confidence. Howard offers to step up, claiming to be from further in the past than anyone._

_The duo end up playing a medieval gig to a very unimpressed crowd, before the show is stolen by Lance and Harold. Disheartened, they head back to the shop._

_The next day, Vince arrives for work dressed in a plain business suit with short brown hair - in fact, he has changed so much that he is unrecognizable to Howard at first. Howard confronts him, and he reveals that he's lost his confidence and is leaving to work in Rumbelows' as junior manager. Howard begs Vince not to give up, and the pair reminisce about their times in the shop, launching into a crimp. This leads to Vince having a sudden brainwave - using the power of the crimp to defeat the Flighty Zeus._

_The two bands go head-to-head in a crimp-off at the Velvet Onion. For a while, things look bad, but then Naboo and Bollo save the day by joining Howard and Vince for a four-way crimp that sends the Flighty Zeus packing. _

**HurtComfort**

_The sky glows ultraviolet, casting bluish hues over the white-blanketed, frozen earth. The snow still falls softly, dusting the faded streets as it spirals from the heavens. A single streetlight bleeds its harsh orange fluorescence into the mix - there is no noise._

_A minute passes, then two. Suddenly the silence is broken as a lone man appears on the corner, under the street lamp, boots sinking in the snow, wispy white clouds trailing from his lips at every breath. His destination is uncertain, even to him. He wears no jacket but doesn't seem to feel the cold, despite the shivers that run through his thin body. He appears to be in a trance, or sleepwalking, wide blue eyes gazing out vacantly, open but not seeing._

_It doesn't take long before he finds a building, a shop of some sort, one of many on this street. Most of them could have been identical, but this one stands out, somehow. Not a flicker of recognition passes across the man's impassive face, but for some reason beckons only to himself, he stops and peers through the window, placing one hand against the misted glass._

_The shop seems to be displaying a wide range of unusual curio and objets d'art. One wall is covered entirely with clocks, each of them telling a different time. A small display consisting of ovals of material hanging on a board sits just inside the window, next to a card that reads 'ELBOW PATCHES: NOW ONLY TEN EUROS'._

_A figure sits behind the till, even though the shop is closed. The counter casts a greenish glow over his face, a good, strong face with small eyes and a moustache. The first man knows him, knows his name._

'_Howard'… The word hangs tentatively in the air, a breath, a whisper, too quiet to be heard by anyone who did not speak it. The man outside, the sleepwalking man with the vacant blue eyes, bangs on the window with the heel of his hand. No sound is produced - the glass does not even shudder in its pane. The moustached man does not notice, does not look up._

_A second figure enters the shop, emerging from the shadows, and the sleepwalker draws in a sharp breath. For he knows this man too, better than he knows anyone else. The newcomer is his clone, his reflection, his mirror image - black hair, white skin, blue eyes and an evil, glittering smile. _

_He lays his hand on the man called Howard's shoulder, an act of possession, staking his claim. The man on the street pounds the glass again - again, his efforts have no effect. He calls his friend's name, but his words are swallowed by the purple mist._

_And now the doppelganger takes hold of Howard's face, bringing the other man towards him. He is met with no resistance as he leans down, closer, closer…_

"_No! That's not me!"_

_The sleepwalker is shouting now, though his words are never heard. _

"_Howard, no! It's a trick, it's not me!"_

"Vince?"

_He smacks the window with his hand again and again, until crimson flowers start to bloom on the glassy surface. Tears, liquid diamonds, mix with the crystalline snow on his face as those on the other side move ever closer. His voice, when he shouts again, is broken, rough and raw enough to wake the dead if only it could be heard._

"_No! Stop it! It's not me! Howard!"_

"Vince, wake up."

"_NO!"_

"VINCE!"

Vince came back to life with the almighty gasp of a drowning man, back arching severely as his eyes snapped open. The bed sheets were soaked with sweat, twisted around his thin body, and his pulse was racing so fast he was genuinely worried his heart might implode. From the other side of the dark room, he could just about make out the shape of another man - taller than him, more solid.

"Vince…?" Howard's voice drifted from the shadows. "You okay?"

It was right on the tip of Vince's tongue to snap _'No, of course I'm not bloody okay',_ but he managed to restrain himself. Howard was just concerned - it was hardly his fault that Vince had turned into a stark raving lunatic. Well, actually, that was a downright lie - it _was _Howard's fault, at least in part. But he didn't know that, and Vince had no intention of telling him.

"Fine." He muttered, shifting into a better position and wincing with discomfort as the sweat-dampened bedclothes stuck to his bare legs. "Just had a bad dream."

"Again?"

Vince didn't reply.

The room was immersed in silence, a silence with the heady consistency of treacle, before a sigh slipped through as Howard heaved himself out of bed and picked his way over to Vince's side of the room, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the mattress.

"You know, you were talking in your sleep. Shouting, actually."

Vince ducked his head, hiding behind the black curtains that fell down over his eyes. He was tempted to ask Howard how much he had heard, but he didn't dare, terrified he might give himself away.

"This is the sixth night in a row, Vince." Howard pointed out. "I just wish you'd tell me what's wrong. This isn't like you."

"Didn't know you cared." Vince muttered sulkily. It was uncalled for, he knew, but Howard being this nice to him made him feel uncomfortable. Particularly after he'd been so horrible recently. Although their defeat of the Flighty Zeus had brought on something of a truce between them - for Vince, it now seemed almost like old times back at the zoo, he and Howard facing impossible odds and somehow coming out on top. It was true, they really were stronger when they were together. Vince could only hope that their newfound unity would last, but he knew deep down that it probably wouldn't. Things weren't the same now as they were back at the zoo. They'd both changed, both grown up. It was inevitable, but that thought did little to stop the dull ache in his chest when he compared the Howard he'd once looked up to, the Howard who'd been so optimistic and upbeat, the Howard who'd had so many hopes and dreams, ambitions waiting to be fulfilled, to the downtrodden, depressed, and somewhat pitiful man he knew today.

_I did that to him, _Vince thought, not for the first time. It did little to alleviate his guilt, and he wondered at how much better off Howard might be if they'd never met.

"Hey." Howard rested a hand on Vince's arm, and Vince stiffened at the jolt of electricity the contact brought with it. Was this all it took now? Was he really so far gone that a single touch could send his entire nervous system up in flames? Although, in fairness, that wasn't the _only _reason he couldn't stand to have Howard touch him right now. He couldn't stand the other man's pity, didn't want to be seen like this, so vulnerable and out of his depth. Vince was supposed to be the strong, unflappable one - having Howard think anything different was unacceptable.

"Don't touch me." He snapped, moving sideways slightly so that Howard's hand fell away.

"Isn't that my line?" Howard replied, smiling gently. He quickly sobered up, however. "I'm just worried about you, Vince. You've been having these nightmares every night since… Oh."

"What?" Vince demanded, a little too quickly.

"That's what this is about, isn't it? It's been ever since those impostors came to town. Tell me I'm wrong."

Vince said nothing, just kept his gaze trained firmly on the duvet still bundled on top of him, picking at a loose thread.

"What are you still thinking about them for?" Howard demanded, choosing to take his silence as a confirmation. "They're in the past, sir. Finished. History. It's all over - we won."

"I know." Vince told his pillow. "I just - I keep thinking about what it was like, how all me friends ditched me as soon as there was someone cooler around to hang out with."

"Oh." Howard said casually. "So glad I'm not one of those 'friends' of yours, then."

"Oh no, Howard, you know I didn't mean it like that!" Vince gushed sincerely, eyes flicking up from under his fringe. There was genuine panic in his voice. "You're more important to me than - well, any of those people."

Howard was surprised, he had to admit. He supposed that he had known it, deep down, or he and Vince would never have stuck together this long, but to hear Vince actually acknowledge the fact aloud was another thing entirely, and he couldn't stop himself from sitting up just a little straighter at the compliment.

"But Howard… what if there really is nothing to me other than fabulous hair and great clothes?"

"That's nonsense, sir!" All of a sudden, Howard felt the irrepressible need to make Vince feel better. It just wasn't right, him being all depressed. Seeing the younger man lose his sparkle and lust for life was something Howard had thought would never, ever happen, and yet it seemed he was being proven wrong. When Vince had stepped through the shop door to announce that he was leaving to work in Rumbelows… well, Howard thought he'd stumbled through into an alternate reality. For one thing, he had looked all… _normal, _dressed in a suit, not a speck of glitter or smear of eyeliner in sight. Even his beloved hair had gone, the wild black mane replaced with a sensible close-cropped 'do. Though, thankfully, that had only been a wig, as Vince had later explained when a rather confused Howard had asked how he'd managed to grow it all back in such a short space of time. (Howard also had to wonder how exactly Vince had managed to get a job at Rumbelows when the company had ceased to exist about twelve years ago, but decided it was probably better not to ask.)

It wasn't just the dreary office attire, though. That was easily fixed, and, while being somewhat bizarre, the change in appearance didn't really reach the heart of who Vince was. No, it was the fact that he had been so willing to just surrender, hold up the white flag and let Lance Dior win. Vince had given up. And Vince _never _gave up. Ever since they'd met, Howard had known him to be a fighter, a born survivor. He might appear to be as fragile as a china doll on the outside, but looks could be misleading. You didn't grow up in a forest and spend most of your adolescence living out on the streets and not become somewhat toughened up by it. The dull, defeated look in Vince's eyes at that moment still sent shivers down Howard's spine to think of it now. It was a look he had never seen before, and was positive he never wanted to see again.

"Come off it, Howard. I get what you're trying to do, but really. You of all people should know that I'm nothing special."

The somewhat darker side of Howard's psyche instantly wished that he had a video camera to record the moment that Vince Noir's magnificent ego seemed to crumble and he admitted to the world at large that he had insecurities the same as every other human being. The equal and opposite force acting on this was for him to cocoon Vince away in some secret, safe place and keep the outside world away from him at all times. The London social scene was having a negative effect on his friend, there was no doubt about it. Not only was it influencing the awful way he had been treating Howard as of late, but it was also causing him to doubt himself. He was self-conscious in a way he never had been before; always having to say the right things, know the right people, stay one step ahead of the game. In days gone by, popularity had just come naturally to Vince - people had flocked to him because of his easy-going nature and ability to brighten just about any situation with his unfailing optimism and sunny disposition. Now, though, it was something he consciously worked at, and ironically, many of the traits that had initially made him so well-liked were beginning to disappear.

Unfortunately, Howard couldn't say any of that, so he settled instead for the next best thing.

"I can't believe you're still letting that little twat get to you. I told you before, you're worth a hundred - a _thousand _- of him. And not just because of what you wear or the way you look. Even if you were physically identical in every way, I'd still be able to tell you apart. It's what's inside that counts, remember, Vince? And your heart is roughly in the right place, even if you do act like an absolute tit sometimes. I would know. I've been in there, after all."

Vince shuddered at the memory. "Yeah, don't remind me. I don't even wanna think about that, it's _way _too weird."

Howard thought that was perhaps a bit rich coming from a man who talked to animals and had befriended a murderous monster made out of bubblegum, but he let it slide. It _was _weird, when you stopped to think about it - getting shrunk down to a molecular level and being injected into Vince's bloodstream - but ultimately, it had saved Vince's life, and he would do it all again in a heartbeat. Just before the whole debacle with the Flighty Zeus, when Vince had told him he'd been to see a doctor - well, Howard had been convinced that he was dying, some kind of after-effect from the rogue jazz cell, perhaps. In that moment, a sense of fear greater than any he'd ever experienced before had gripped him, and he had been right on the precipice of admitting _everything, _had Vince confirmed the worst.

Of course, it turned out that the worst of Vince's problems was his own unwanted mini-me, and Howard's guilty little secrets got to stay that way a while longer.

"Mmm… what time s'it, Howard?" Vince mumbled quite suddenly, halfway through a yawn. Howard squinted down at the glow-in-the-dark hands of his stylish-yet-practical watch.

"About three-thirty am."

"Fuck!" Vince swore, dropping his head. "I've got a gig on tonight - I'm gonna be knackered!"

"Can't you just cancel it?"

"What?! Are you joking?" Vince demanded, in the same tone of voice he would have used had Howard suggested he take a bath in radioactive waste. Not that Vince would know what radioactive waste was. "I can't do that, Fossil will get all on my back again."

"Yeah, about that." Howard began, suddenly remembering something else he had been meaning to grill Vince about. "When exactly were you going to tell me that _Fossil _is your manager?"

"Um…" Vince seemed to ponder this for a few seconds. "…Never?"

Even though that was what Howard had suspected, hearing it confirmed aloud still stung. "Why the hell not?"

"'Cause I knew you'd overreact. Like you are doing now."

"Right. And it never occurred to you that maybe I'd find out?"

"Well, to be honest, I wasn't expected to get dragged into a crimp-off against a couple of guys from the 'before' pictures in plastic surgery ads, no." Vince snapped defensively. A little _too _defensively, in Howard's opinion. He was hiding behind his hair again. There was something he wasn't admitting…

And then, all of a sudden, everything just fell into place. Like some huge, ugly jigsaw being completed in Howard's mind. He wanted to wail with anguish as it all came into focus with perfect clarity - the reason for Vince being so secretive recently, the way in which he had been able to pay off his thousand euro debt to Howard so easily, Naboo not bothering about the rent even though they hadn't sold anything in the shop for weeks. Howard could have killed himself for not seeing it sooner. How could he be so fucking stupid, so _blind _as to not notice what had been going on right underneath his nose?

Before he could bottle out, Howard pulled the covers down and yanked the hem of Vince's faded Guns 'n' Roses t-shirt up in one swift motion. Vince yelped and tried to fight him off, but Howard was stronger, and it was already much too late by the time Vince had realized what was going on, anyway. He stopped struggling and gave up as the garment was lifted away from his skin and the now-faded-but-still-visible bruises that decorated his ribs were revealed.

Howard gently traced an index finger over the ugly marks, and Vince drew in a sharp intake of breath at the touch. Every muscle in his body seemed to tauten at once, and he grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheet in his hands as though he was steeling himself for something unpleasant. Howard lifted his eyes to the other man's face and met his questioning blue gaze head-on.

"Please tell me he didn't give you these." He insisted. He kept his voice quiet, even, although on the inside he felt fit to explode.

"Howard -"

"_Tell _me, Vince. Please. I need to know."

This time Vince said nothing, just hung his head in misery.

Howard abruptly let go of him and backed up on the narrow bed, pressing his face wearily into his hands and wondering what the hell to do now. The thought of Vince - his beautiful, precious, special Vince - whoring himself out to _Fossil _of all people for cash turned his stomach. Of course, Vince _wasn't _his, was he? He could do whatever the hell he wanted. But it still felt like a betrayal. Howard didn't understand how he could do it -

"Howard," Vince whispered, his voice cracking, sounding very much as though he was about to cry, "Howard, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

"Why, Vince?" Howard asked from behind his hands. He wasn't sure he could bear to look at the other man right now. "Why didn't you just quit?"

"I - I _couldn't. _I needed the money. I swear to you, Howard, if there was any other way… I had to pay Naboo for the rent."

"It's _our _rent, Vince, not _your _rent. And Naboo - Naboo wouldn't have wanted you to do… _that _just to get his money, you know he wouldn't -"

"You really think so? Naboo doesn't care about us, he only cares about where his next cheque's coming from. Howard, you have every right to hate me, but I didn't have a choice. I did it for _us._ I did it for _you, _Howard."

"You sold your soul, Vince." Howard accused. The situation was so bizarrely dramatic that he would have laughed, had it not been so very serious.

"I don't even know what that means." Vince admitted tearfully.

Howard risked a glance at him, and found his heart melt at the pale, anxious, tear-stained face that looked back at him. Vince had put himself through hell, and due to his own twisted logic, believed that doing so would help Howard. He had been acting out of love - a weird, misguided kind of love, maybe, but love all the same. How could Howard continue being cold to him after that revelation?

"Did he… make you do anything?" He asked, a little more kindly, making his implication clear. He couldn't quite bring himself to say the exact words, but he needed to know.

"No." Vince answered, far too quickly for Howard's liking. The negative response seemed only to confirm the opposite, in this instance.

"If he touches you again, I swear, I'll fucking kill him." Howard growled. A deep, animalistic rage, the likes of which he didn't even know he was capable, was building up inside him. The thought of his revolting former boss putting his hands on Vince, hurting him, bruising him… Vince scared and crying but going through with it because he didn't see an alternative… it brought out this wild, possessive streak in him, and he felt sure that, if Fossil was here right now, he could have killed him with his bare hands.

"Howard, calm down." Vince pleaded. He reached out as though to lay a placating hand on the bigger man's shoulder, but stopped just short of actually making the contact, as though there was an invisible barrier between them. "Please, whatever you're picturing right now, it's not as bad as all that. Besides, I can handle Fossil."

"Evidently." Howard said darkly, casting a meaningful look at Vince's torso, the skin painted every colour of the bruised and abused rainbow.

Vince flushed and tugged his hem down, drawing the duvet back up around his chin.

"That was before. It's different now, I've got the situation under control. Naboo helped me out."

"Did he, now?" That was generous of him. Howard was definitely going to be having words with the shaman once the sun was up.

"Howard… You trust me, yeah?" Vince asked nervously, biting his lip.

"Yes." The answer came without hesitation; Howard didn't even have to think about it. Funny, that - in spite of everything that had happened, he had never stopped trusting Vince. Not even for a second.

"Then you trust me when I say I'm handling this, by myself?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Howard asked tightly. He was loathe to just leave the issue there, and he still wasn't entirely convinced that Vince was telling the truth, but he didn't really see what other choice he had. He didn't want to push Vince for information he wasn't ready to give, and he wasn't about to get involved if Vince didn't want him to be. So, at least for now, it would appear that he just had to let it go.

"Hey, Howard?" Vince asked quietly, after a few moments' silence.

"Yeah?"

Vince chewed his lip again, unsure, nervous, hesitant. It was a gesture Howard knew well.

"…Can I have a hug?"

_Oh, God. _Just when Howard had thought it wasn't possible for his heart to be shredded any more than it already had been, Vince had to come out with that and totally destroy him all over again.

"You don't have to _ask." _He replied, voice heavy with emotion.

The second Howard's arms went around Vince, the smaller man lost the last tenuous grip on self-control he had left, sobbing into Howard's neck, shoulders heaving, drawing in shuddering gasps of air. Howard stroked a comforting hand over his back, rocking him gently and murmuring useless words of comfort in his ear. It was a long time since he had last held Vince like this, and he couldn't help but be alarmed by how thin he was getting, knobbly vertebrae protruding from under the skin, sharp hipbones jutting out in all the wrong places. Sometime soon they were going to have to have a talk about what, exactly, Vince was eating, but now wasn't the time. Vince grabbed hold of Howard's shirt lapels and pushed his head against the thin fabric as though he was trying to bury himself in there.

"I'm sorry, Howard…" He was whispering under his breath in a broken, jagged voice, over and over again. "…I'm so sorry."

"Oh God, Vince. It's not your fault." Howard's own voice was dangerously close to breaking as he forced it out past a painful lump in his throat. "It's not your fault. It was never your fault. You shouldn't have had to go through all that. I'm so, so sorry."

He clasped Vince's head tightly to his chest in a vain, wasted attempt to protect him from all the horrors of the world outside their tiny bedroom.

_Too little, too late._

When he'd completely cried himself out, Vince pulled back and Howard cupped his face with both hands, gently wiping away the remaining tears with his sleeve. And all the while he worked, Vince stared at him with an unreadable expression.

_He really shouldn't be that beautiful. _Howard mused. Even with his face devoid of make-up, his skin pale and pasty, eyes bloodshot, hair lank and lifeless and drenched with sweat, Vince was still beautiful. He was too skinny, his smile was too crooked, his nose too flat, cheekbones too sharp, and those clear blue eyes were far, _far _too big for his face. And he was beautiful. To Howard, he always would be.

"Better?" Howard asked when he'd finished. Vince nodded mutely. Acting on impulse, Howard leaned forwards and quickly kissed Vince's nose. As soon as he'd done it, he froze, mind curiously blank except for the word _'SHIT' _flashing up again and again in neon lights. Until Vince rolled his eyes and let out the smallest giggling laugh.

"You are a spaz, Howard." He sighed affectionately, wrinkling his nose in confusion. The insult was like music to Howard's ears, and he suddenly found himself grinning inanely.

"You better just watch it, sir, or I'll come at ya -"

"Like a northern bullet, right?" Vince finished, shaking his head before breaking into one of the most enormous yawns Howard had ever seen.

"I think you'd better try and get some sleep, little man."

"Howard?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you stay with me, please? I don't want to have nightmares again."

Howard didn't think he could turn down that request even if he'd wanted to. He moved Vince over to his own bed, figuring it would probably be more comfortable. It was a little squashed in the single bed, but they managed. Within seconds, Vince was fast asleep, with Howard's arm wrapped protectively around his waist.

Howard quietly studied the peaceful, sleeping face mere inches from his own, overcome with an unbearable sadness even despite the contentment of his current situation. He stroked the smooth skin of Vince's cheek with the back of his knuckles and kissed him again, on the lips this time.

"I love you."

Howard whispered the confession as he drew back. Vince snuffled and shifted a little in his sleep, but otherwise didn't stir. Howard sighed at the feeling of an incredible weight being lifted from his shoulders as he finally admitted to himself what he had known deep down for months now, maybe even years.

He just wished he had the courage to say it while Vince was awake.

* * *

**A/N: **Please don't hate me!

Erm, to be honest, I don't really know when the next one will be up - thing is, I know exactly what I want to do with the last two, but The Crack Fox was never one of my favourite eps and I don't really know what to do with it. If anyone had any ideas they could help me out with, that would be awesome. The _good _news is, I finish for Christmas on Thursday, so updates should come a lot quicker. I'm _hoping _I'll finally get this thing finished by New Year.

And now I'm off to bed, 'cause I've left myself with about four hours' sleep. You see what I do for you people?!  
Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated.  
Only three to go...


	18. Trash

**A/N: **Sorry, it's been so long again. Things have been kind of hectic. Also, I am now primarily on LiveJournal, so once this story is finished, new fics will most likely be uploaded there first. The lyrics featured at the beginning of the chapter are 'Poison' by Alice Cooper.

Enjoy the show...

- - - - - X - - - - -

'_**The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox' episode recap: **__The episode begins with Naboo and Bollo meeting another shaman under the cover of night. The shaman gives Naboo a powerful potion called 'Shaman Juice' to give him extra strength, but warns that it can only be activated by the light of the full moon._

_Howard is annoyed when he finds out that Vince has been leaving rubbish in the back yard, instead of in designated refuse areas. He is especially aggravated when Vince insults binmen, claiming that he used to be one. He instructs the younger man to move the garbage to the correct place while he is out at his Jazzercise class._

_Whilst clearing up the rubbish, Vince meets an urban fox addicted to crack, calling himself - appropriately enough - the Crack Fox. The fox asks Vince to kill him, and Vince takes pity on him, inviting him into the shop. He promptly knocks Vince out and steals the Shaman Juice._

_Naboo is furious upon returning home and finding the potion gone, causing Vince to panic and blame Howard. He protests at first when Naboo plans to fire Howard, but is soon distracted when Naboo gives him a shiny cape. Howard is sent away as soon as he gets back from his class, and vows that he will never forgive Vince for betraying him in such a way._

_Naboo and Bollo go to smooth things over with the Board of Shamen, but soon find out that they are facing the death sentence for allowing the Shaman Juice to get stolen. Dennis takes pity on them, however, and advises Naboo to save himself by using the gifts that were bestowed upon him when he first became a shaman._

_Naboo uses a girl as a conduit with which to speak to Vince, who is busy partying in the shop. He reveals that he and Bollo are on death row, and asks Vince for his help. Vince attempts to come up with a plan by himself, but when he meets little success, he goes out in order to look for Howard._

_After a conversation with a nearby tramp, Vince finds Howard back working with the binmen. He apologizes for blaming him before and asks for his help. Howard tells Vince that he needs a gesture. Vince gives his cape to the tramp, and Howard reluctantly agrees to lend his assistance._

_The duo head down into the sewers, and find the fox just as he activates the potion. He vows to wipe out all of the human race, starting with Howard and Vince, but the tramp appears to save them, buying them valuable time. They race out of the sewers with the shaman juice, and the fox flies into one of the bin lorries as he follows them out._

_Howard and Vince manage to get the potion back to the Board of Shamen just in time to save Naboo, and the episode ends with all the shamen preparing to 'have it large'._

**Trash**

_I hear you calling and it's needles and pins  
__I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name  
__Don't want to touch you but you're under my skin  
__I want to kiss you but your lips are venomous poison  
_'Poison' - Alice Cooper

High above the Nabootique, the sky rumbled ominously, then exploded with a sound like that of a gunshot. A single fork of lightning split the heavens in two, illuminating the empty street below. Two heavy purple clouds parted, and a magic carpet slipped out from between them, silhouetted sharply against the dramatic backdrop.

Howard moaned lowly under his breath, gripping the fabric beneath his hands so hard, the knuckles turned white. He'd never been good with flying, and no matter how many times Naboo assured him that this was 'perfectly safe', it was a hell of a lot worse than being on an aeroplane. And the weather wasn't helping any. His shirt was soaked right through, sending chills throughout his entire body. Every crack of thunder or flash of lightning had him jumping about a foot in the air, certain he was about to plummet to his death.

Still, he was somewhat gratified to see that Vince didn't appear to be faring any better. The younger man was curled in a tight ball, knees drawn up to his chest, shivering violently in the thin PVC of his jumpsuit. His hair was sopping wet - rivulets of water ran from his fringe and flowed into his eyes and mouth.

Howard turned his attention to the little shaman sat in front of him, a picture of rigid concentration as he steered the carpet through the harsh conditions. He didn't even have Bollo on hand to help, as the gorilla had decided to stay behind on party it up with the very same people who had called for his execution less than an hour before. Probably a very unwise decision - the train fares getting back to London would be astronomical.

Naboo must have cast some kind of spell, Howard deduced, watching in fascination the way he seemed impervious to the weather. He was bone-dry; the same winds that whipped Vince's hair into a wild frenzy and made Howard feel as though he were being flayed alive did little more than ripple the magic man's robes slightly, like the shifting sands of his home planet.

Finally, _finally, _they touched down outside the shop, the carpet coming in for a bumpy landing under the neon sign. Howard slid off gratefully, stumbling a little as he got his land-legs back. Vince snickered at him, before jolting with fright and racing for cover behind the larger man as a particularly loud peal of thunder sounded overhead. Howard shook his arm to stop Vince from clinging on to it like a limpet, muttering a quick 'don't touch me' under his breath, for all the good it would do.

Naboo glared at the pair of them in much the same way a schoolteacher would do - an expression he pulled off surprisingly well, considering he was about four foot high - and tapped the carpet so that it shrunk down to the size of a stick of chewing gum before stowing it away in one of his many pockets. He headed wordlessly towards the side entrance and ascended the stairs to the flat, Howard and Vince trailing along obediently behind him.

Once upstairs, Vince shook his head like a dog trying to dry itself, water spraying from the ends of his hair and soaking everything within the immediate vicinity. He desisted when Howard shot him A Look, mouthing an apology and collapsing on the sofa to drag his boots off, the expression on his face something akin to agony. Howard watched him quizzically. It was entirely beyond his understanding why somebody would knowingly wear something that caused them physical pain for the sole purpose of looking fashionable.

"Howard, go and get us the tea, would you?" Naboo commanded, sinking down next to Vince. It sounded like a simple request, but Howard knew that tone of voice well enough by now to realize that it was an order.

He was somewhat tempted to point out that, since he was still technically fired and evicted, Naboo was no longer his boss or his landlord and so he was under no obligation to do what was asked of him. But when it came to down to it, he was simply tired - not just in the sense that he could use some sleep; he was plain bone-weary of everything. And so he sloped off to the kitchen to do what was asked of him.

Still, he couldn't help the now-familiar feeling of anger and resentment building up inside of him as he boiled the kettle and dropped tea bags into three mugs. He was so sick of being pushed around like this, treated like little more than a slave by his flatmates, people who were supposed to be his _friends. _Naboo and Bollo had virtually no respect for him or consideration for his feelings, but at least they made no attempt to disguise their lack of regard for him. Vince was… Howard didn't know what Vince was. One minute he could scarcely leave the older man alone, and the next he wanted nothing to do with him.

All he knew was that he was so ridiculously fed up of Vince messing around with him. It wasn't fair. He shouldn't have to put up with this. He _didn't _have to put up with it, he realized suddenly. Surely he could move out, if he really wanted to. He could crash with Lester for a while - he was sure the old jazz man wouldn't mind the company for a change. Just until he found his feet. And maybe that wouldn't take as long as he might expect, either - his old binmen comrades had seemed perfectly happy to welcome him back into the fold before. Maybe they could take him on a little more permanently…

Howard blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts as the kettle came to a boil, smoke filling the tiny kitchen. Sighing, he poured the water into the mugs and stirred each of them in turn, adding milk and dumping half a bag of sugar into one for Vince.

"So, listen, Naboo," Howard could hear the man in question saying from the other room. "Considering that we just, like, saved your life an' everything, are you gonna give Howard 'is job back?"

"Actually, that won't be necessary." Howard cut in before Naboo could say anything, entering the room with mugs in hand.

"What do you mean?" Vince frowned. Howard tried not to notice how cute he looked when he was confused.

"I told you, Vince. I'm going back to my old life. As a binman."

"Oh, come off it, Howard - as if you expect me to believe that!"

Howard just stared at him for a moment. Vince's grin slowly slid off his face.

"I'm not joking."

"Really." The younger man's expression became very ugly all of a sudden, his lip curling into a sneer. "And what're you gonna do in two days' time when you've got yourself into some degrading and life-threatening situation, and you need _me _to get you out of it?"

And then the rage exploded. Howard hadn't really been particularly serious about leaving - at the very least, he was going to wait until the morning and see how he felt - but all of a sudden, he just wanted to be as far aware from here as humanly possible.

"Maybe I wouldn't get _into_ those situations in the first place if I didn't have you around! Did you ever think about _that?! _No, of course you didn't - too much like hard work." He snorted with disgust. "Just do everyone a favour and get over yourself, Vince."

With that last, stinging comment, he turned and left the room, taking the stairs down to the shop two at a time. He could hear Vince thudding behind him, but didn't bother turning to check. He skidded a little when he hit the bottom, almost crashing into the counter, but didn't stop. At least, not until Vince grabbed his arm, displaying more strength than Howard would have expected from him.

"Where the _fuck _do you think you're going?!" He demanded. His face was pure thunder, as dark as the clouds that still collided violently outside the window.

"Away from here." Howard said simply. The words he really meant to say seemed to echo in the air all around them:

_Away from you._

"You - you can't do this!" Vince sounded more desperate than angry now, but that didn't stop Howard's last nerve from snapping explosively as he pushed Vince into a display shelf, knocking various knick-knacks off as he did so. He grabbed the other man by the neck and pinned him against the wall, trapping him with his own body.

"Oh, and why's that, then?" He practically growled, spitting out the words as though they were poison. "Please could you explain it to me _why _exactly I can't do whatever the hell I damn well want to?! You'd better talk to me _right now,_ Vincent, or I swear to God, I'll -"

Howard suddenly stopped mid-rant as he caught the look in Vince's eyes. Their faces were scant inches apart, close enough for Howard to easily read the emotion that had been scrawled across his face for all to see.

Fear.

Vince was scared. That in itself was a rarity, but for him to be scared of Howard… His blue eyes were wide, and he was shaking, and suddenly Howard had a flashback to the last time they were in this position. He could recall as vividly as if had happened only a moment ago holding Vince up against the shop shutters, and Vince being so suggestive and cocky until Howard let fly with his fist, and now… Now he was scared.

"Howard…" Vince gasped, "Howard, you're hurting me."

Howard looked at him. His hair was still soaking wet from the rain outside, fringe falling forward into his eyes. Eyes that were now rapidly filling with tears. He was unnaturally pale, even for him, but there was a faint pink tint to his cheeks and dark smudges under his eyes from stress or tiredness or perhaps just smeared make-up. His lip was caught between two sharp incisors as he bit down on it nervously. He was still beautiful, but he was corrupted, flawed - dangerous, even. Vince was toxic - everything he touched grew chaotic and turned to dust. So why was it that Howard still wanted to touch him, all the time? From his current outlook, he wasn't even sure whether he wanted to take Vince into his arms and kiss him to within an inch of his life, or punch him again and break his nose a second time.

So he did neither, releasing his hold on the smaller man - and it was only now, when they were in such close proximity, that Howard realized just how _much _smaller Vince was than him - and turning away. Vince whimpered pitifully as he slid down to the floor, and Howard gave him one last despairing look before heading towards the door, grabbing his coat off the stand next to it.

"You can't do this, Howard!" Vince cried again. His voice was raw and hysterical.

"Goodbye, Vince." Howard said softly, before opening the door and stepping out once again into the cold, freezing rain pelting his face. He could still hear Vince carrying on from inside the shop.

"Fine! Fine, you go, I don't care!" He was screeching, "I don't care, 'cause you'll be back! I know you, Howard, and you're a fucking _coward! _You'll be back, because you need me! You _need _me, Howard! And maybe when you _do _get back, I won't be here anymore! What'll you do then, eh?!"

Miraculously, the screams faded once Howard had gotten a couple of dozen metres away from the shop. He made it all the way to Lester's house before he realized the rain had stopped long ago, and his face was still wet.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Twenty-two hours.

Or, more precisely - twenty-two hours, fourteen minutes and roughly forty-nine seconds.

That was how long it had been since Howard had left the flat.

Vince knew, because he'd been counting.

He had pretty much assumed that the older man would be back soon enough - he was, after all, incapable of taking care of himself - but nearly a full day had passed, and he still hadn't returned. And there was always that niggling little _'what if…?' _at the back of his mind - _what if _Howard had left for good? _What if _he was in trouble, alone and scared because he didn't have Vince around to save him, like he always did. _What if… what if _it was already too late to save him?

Vince shuddered, and hugged his pillow tightly to his chest, not wanting to continue that particular train of thought. Howard would be fine. He'd be back soon.

Vince checked the time again.

Twenty-two hours, sixteen minutes and eight seconds. Still no Howard.

Sighing, he lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, biting his lip as he felt the tears prick up in the back of his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. Maybe he should go out and look for Howard, make sure he was okay. Apologize for screwing up so spectacularly once again.

Just as he was having this thought, there was a gentle knock at the bedroom door. Without waiting for a reply, it swung forward on creaky hinges and Bollo shuffled in, looking slightly worse for the wear after partying with the shamen for the duration of the previous night.

"Naboo say stop lounging in bed and open shop. Or he fire you, too."

Vince grimaced as he remembered Howard getting fired, the look of hurt and betrayal on his face when he realized that Vince wasn't going to help him out. That Vince had set him up. He honestly hadn't meant to, though - he didn't even consider the possibility that Naboo would fire someone for leaving the rubbish out. And he'd _tried _to defend Howard, until he'd been distracted by the cape. After that, he couldn't really be held accountable for his actions.

"Open the shop?!" He replied, echoing Bollo's words, "Is he mental? It's ten o'clock at night!"

"Overtime."

"I thought that sent you to sleep."

"What?" Bollo grunted, scratching his head in apparent confusion.

"You know - like a hot, chocolatey kinda drink? You give it to the nippers to send 'em off to dreamland."

"That Ovaltine."

"Right. Oh, well, whatever!" Vince huffed, rolling over and pressing his face into the pillow once again. "I don't care. Let 'im fire me."

"Okay, then." And he wandered out.

Five minutes later, Naboo arrived.

"Oh, for God's sake!" He exclaimed upon seeing Vince huddled in a pathetic lump on the bed. "You're not _still _moping about Howard, are you?"

Vince sat up to death-stare him, but offered nothing in the way of a reply.

"Look, I'm sure he'll be fine." Naboo soothed, attempting a reassuring tone of voice and failing miserably. "You know Howard - he'll be back before long."

"What if he's not, though?!" Vince panicked, letting his imagination run away with him. "What if he's been eaten by a giant Burberry moth, or - or sold to a rich oil sheikh for magic beans?!" He gasped as an even worse possibility occurred to him. "What if he's been kidnapped by a bunch of crazed internet stalkers who want to gang-rape him to within an inch of his life?!"

"Bit far-fetched, innit?"

"I'm glad you find it funny. Howard's probably dead, and it's all my fault!"

"I doubt that Howard's _dead. _Vince, is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Oh…" Vince sighed, caving under the pressure. "All right, it was me! I was the one who left those bin bags out in the rain, not Howard! I let that fox in, but I didn't know it was gonna knock me out and steal you magic juice, honest! I blamed Howard, 'cause you seemed so angry, but I didn't think were gonna _fire _him! And by that stage, I couldn't go back on what I'd said, 'cause you'd already given me that cape!"

Naboo listened to his tirade without even so much as batting an eyelid. Once Vince was finished him, he just sat back and surveyed him silently.

"I know." He admitted finally.

"You _know?" _Vince echoed, somewhat disbelievingly. "What d'you mean, you _know?!"_

"Oh, come on, Vince. Howard's a dick, but he's not as thick as you. He wouldn't leave bin bags out in the rain because they 'melt like a giant Berocca'."

Vince flushed, but chose to ignore the slight. He probably deserved it.

"Wait a minute. You knew it was me, and you still fired Howard?"

"I figured it would teach you a lesson. You should learn to appreciate your friends more, Vince. Your _real _friends, that is."

"You don't even _like _Howard!" Vince squeaked indignantly.

"No, I don't. But I do feel sorry for him. He doesn't deserve to be treated the way you treat him. I'm surprised it's taken him this long to get away, to be honest. Not everyone would just lie down and take that for as long as he has."

"Oh, don't get all high and mighty with me - you're just as bad!"

"Like you said - I don't like Howard. You only hurt the ones you care about, Vince."

Vince pondered this for a few seconds, before realizing what he had to do.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Which was how, twenty minutes later, he found himself wandering the darkened streets of Dalston, heading in the general direction of Lester's house. There was a sound like something wet slithering over leaves from behind him, and he spun around in all directions to find the source of the noise, heart beating a tattoo against his chest.

Vince knew that this was a bad area of town. He'd have to be pretty stupid not to know, considering the variety of assorted freaks he and Howard had encountered since living here. But the kinds of monster he was used to dealing with were easy to spot - they would be coloured in vibrant shades of green and blue, draped in odd attire and sporting hideous deformities, looking like they'd escaped from a children's story book.

But there were other monsters, too, and these were much harder to recognize - monsters that camouflaged themselves in the skin of ordinary people, waiting for someone young and impressionable to pass them by. Vince might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he knew what could happen to someone like him out alone at night. But he had rarely ever thought about it before - whenever he had ventured out at this time in the past, he had either been with people, or too drunk to care.

But now he was on his own and stone-cold sober, he could focus on nothing else, his imagination whirling ahead of him, his senses heightened. The darkness seemed absolute, pressing down on him from all sides, choking him until he was struggling to draw air. Every footstep sounded like a gunshot, and he was positive that someone was following him. Before he could stop them, certain words flashed up in neon lights inside his head. Words like kidnap. Rape. Murder. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run all the way back home, only the thought that Howard might be out here too stopping him. He just needed to get to Lester's, make sure that Howard was there and that he was okay, and then they would go back. Together.

Vince shivered as the very air seemed to sigh, a gust of wind bringing the temperature down several degrees, and drew his coat tighter around him.

At least it wasn't raining anymore.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the same noise again. He knew it wasn't his imagination now. He was being followed. Someone - or some_thing_- was stalking him.

"Wh-who's there?" He called, wishing his voice wasn't shaking quite so much. "Howard? Howard, is that you?"

There was more rustling, and then something stepped out into the dim pool of light created by one of the streetlamps. Something about two foot tall, with matted orange fur and ragged clothes, accompanied by a vile stench.

"Oh, it's just you." Vince sighed, part relieved and part disappointed. He doubted that the fox was still dangerous, without the Shaman Juice, but he still wished that Howard was there instead.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

"Foxes is like cockroaches, miss. You try to kill us, an' we comes back twice as strong. Question is, what are _you _doing out here all alone, Mr Fancyman?"

"I'm looking for my mate Howard. Don't suppose you've seen him, have you?"

"That depends - what's he look like?"

Vince sighed, exasperated. He didn't have time for this. "You _know _what he looks like - tall, moustache, tiny eyes like a… Oh, forget it. He won't be out here, not if he's got any sense."

"Yeah, I seen 'im"

Vince blinked. "What?"

"I said, I've seen him. 'E's just around this corner. Come on, an' I'll show you."

"I don't think so…" Vince began to back away nervously. Maybe he had been wrong. The creature was clearly insane. "I should probably be going now…"

"Move it, bitch."

This time, when the fox spoke, its voice was several octaves lower, commanding in a deep, dual tone. Vince found his eyes drawn towards the large syringes it had instead of fingers, and found he had no choice but to follow the thing.

Five minutes later, and he was shoved inside a mound of bin bags, not unlike the one that had been outside the Nabootique. The smell was unbearable, and he fought the urge to gag as he was manoeuvred into a clearing.

"Where is this, exactly?"

"Why, this is my new home, sir. After youse destroyed the last one."

"Yeah… I'm really sorry about that, by the way. But there's no need to do anything hasty…"

This was said as the fox produced a tattered red dress from somewhere unknown and flung it at Vince.

"What's this?"

"Put it on and see."

Vince's eyes widened. "Look, whatever kinky things your into, it's nothing to with me, yeah? I mean, I am pretty open-minded, but I _do _draw the line at bestiality."

The thing giggled maniacally. "You think Cracky Jacky wants to have sexy times with you, pretty ladyboy? No, no, no, you got it all wrong. You're gonna be a human sacrifice to appease the God of Garbage!"

"The God of Garbage?!" Vince echoed incredulously, "You're mentally ill!"

The fox's eyes seemed to glow, and when he next spoke, it was in that deep, growling voice again.

"Put the dress on."

He clicked the syringes together to illustrate the point, and Vince could find no other alternative but to do as he was asked.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard stifled a sigh as he glanced down at his watch. Nearly midnight. He had no idea what he was doing out, other than for the simple reason he couldn't bear to spend any more time with Lester. It was good of the older man to let him take refuge at his house, but in some ways, he was just as bad as Vince. He certainly made fun of Howard as much as Vince did, if not more. And he had a tendency to assume that they were the same age, which they blatantly weren't.

Oh, who was he kidding? The simple truth remained that Lester simply wasn't Vince, and would never be able to replace him, no matter how much Howard might wish he could. _No-one _would ever be able to replace Vince. No-one else knew how to crimp, for one thing. No-one else would be able to see the joy in a satsuma fight. No-one else Howard knew spent three hours doing their hair in the morning when it looked perfect to begin with. No-one else played electro music at ear-shattering volumes at three in the morning, or asked ridiculous questions like whether or not Pavlov invented pavlovas.

No-one else made Howard fall in love with them.

He really was pathetic - one day without Vince, and he missed him already. That was the real reason he was pacing the streets at 12am in the middle of winter, muttering and gesticulating to himself like an escaped lunatic.

Howard frowned as a faint sound caught his ears. It was a kind of muffled whimpering, like that of a hurt puppy. It seemed to be coming from a gigantic mound of rubbish lying nearby, bigger even than that which Vince had created outside the shop.

Not even really knowing why he was bothering, Howard moved one of the bin bags - and then gasped as a huge empty space was revealed beyond, the rubbish utilised for a makeshift living space. There were telephone directories used as tables, glow sticks casting an eerie light over the scene. And in the middle of all the mess, on a moulding wooden chair, was -

"_Vince?!" _Howard gasped.

His flatmate looked a state, wearing what appeared to be a tight red dress, torn in several places, and very little else. His hands were tied to the chair with what appeared to be strips of plastic binliner, and his mouth was gagged with the same material. Vince's eyes widened to proportions that would have been comical in any other situation, and in them Howard could read a desperate plea.

Any lingering irritation Howard might have had with the younger man went out of the window as he hurried forwards to free him from his bindings. He struggled to undo the gag first, fingers slipping on the smooth surface as he tore through it. Vince coughed violently as soon as it was removed from his face, choking on air.

"Howard," he gasped, staring at the older man with a combination of wonderment and confusion. "Howard, is that really you?"

"Of course it's me. What happened?"

"That fox… turns out it wasn't quite as dead as we thought. Howard, we need to get out of here."

"Okay. Okay," Howard soothed as he freed Vince's hands. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm _fine. _But neither of us will be if we don't get moving soon."

Howard took hold of Vince's hand and pulled him to his feet, and the pair of them ran from the site, only stopping when it became a struggle to draw breath.

"Are you okay?" Howard asked, once he was fairly confident he could speak in coherent sentences again. Vince looked a little abashed, and he suddenly realized that the dress he was wearing barely grazed the tops of his thighs, and there was a large section of material missing from around the ribs. He shivered, and Howard immediately felt ashamed for taking advantage of his dishevelled state to stare at the exposed flesh. He tore his gaze away and removed his coat, passing it wordlessly to Vince. Vince looked up at him, hesitant.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I think you need it more than I do, somehow."

It was probably a testament to how Vince was feeling that he didn't complain at having to wear Howard's unfashionable parka, just slipped it over his shoulders. The thing drowned him in a fairly adorable way, and Howard found he had to resist looking at him to avoid smiling. He was supposed to still be mad with Vince, after all.

"Howard?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you come back home, now?"

Howard sighed, looking at the ground in front of him as they walked. "I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

"I told Naboo. That it was me who left the rubbish out."

"Bit late now isn't it, little man?"

"Howard, I'm really sorry. Will you just _look _at me, please?"

Bracing himself, Howard did so. In fairness, Vince did _look_ sorry. But looks could be deceiving, especially where Vince was concerned.

"I never meant to blame it all on you," he continued beseechingly, "honest, I didn't. I just - I just panicked. But I didn't think Naboo would _fire _you. And when he did, I tried to take it all back, but he distracted me with that cape!"

"It doesn't take much, does it?" Howard said softly.

"Howard, _please!" _Vince begged. He sounded practically on the verge of tears, now. "I can't stand it when you're like this."

"Just answer me one question, Vince."

"What?"

"Why'd you do it in the first place? Why did you let that freak of nature into the shop?"

Vince frowned in confusion, as if he couldn't even begin to work out why Howard would ask such a question.

"I felt sorry for 'im, Howard. He was all alone, no home to go to except for a pile of bin bags, out in the cold… 'E was gonna kill himself! Maybe he wouldn't have turned out like such a freak if he had someone. No-one should have to be alone. S'not right."

Howard nodded vaguely. That was all he needed to hear, really. Some things quite obviously never changed. Vince had proven over the past few days that he was just as naïve as he used to be, and also just as compassionate. He had invited that bloody fox into their home, and it had been a stupid, idiotic thing to do, but he had done it for the right reasons. Because he always wanted to believe the best of people. Because he couldn't stand to see any other living creature suffering.

But if that was true, why did he delight in causing Howard so much pain. Maybe he just took it for granted that the two of them were going to be together forever. He really _was _naïve, if he thought that Howard would put up with his crap for much longer. He loved Vince, more than he could ever hope to comprehend, but there was only so much he could take. He would return to the flat tonight, because he was willing to wait and see if things improved.

But he wouldn't wait forever.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Later that night - or rather, in the very early hours of the morning - Vince sat bolt upright in bed, a thought suddenly occurring to him. He had been getting the feeling a lot lately that there was something he had forgotten, but he hadn't _quite _been able to put his finger on what it was.

Until now. That was the reason he was wide awake at nearly four am. The realization had hit him with the force of a speeding freight train.

It was Howard's birthday tomorrow.


	19. Sucker Love

**A/N: **Oh, look, a relatively quick update - has the world gone mad? No, I've just been looking forward to doing this one for quite some time. (And several people have been nudging me - you know who you are! :P)

Actually, before we get on with the fic, I'd just like to do a bit of general advertisement. We all love our boys, right? Everyone knows that. But sometimes, let's be honest, what we really need is a woman's touch. That's what the Femme Boosh is for - a brilliant new community specifically for fic centred around the female characters, created and maintained by the sparkling and vivacious Beechwood0708. There's challenges a-plenty (well, okay, just the one at the minute - but there will be!) and oodles of original, creative fic just itching to be written, so what are ya waiting for - come on down!

Okay, that's the marketing bit over with. And to think they told me I'd never make a saleswoman...

Both the lyrics used and the chapter title are from the song 'Every Me Every You' by the wondrous Placebo. 'Tis not mine, but it's a brilliant song.

Enjoy the show...

- - - - - X - - - - -

'_**Party' episode recap: **__It's Howard's birthday, and Vince is desperate for him to have a party. Howard initially refuses due to some bad memories from their childhood, but his mind is soon changed when a jazz-loving girl comes into the shop and takes an interest in him - though it is later revealed that Vince paid her to do so._

_Naboo rings the shaman council to invite them to the party, but Dennis claims he is unable to make it, due to his wife's extreme sports calendar shoot._

_Later that evening, the party is in full swing and Howard and Lester are spectacularly embarrassing themselves. Howard is furious when his speech is upstaged by Vince's dramatic entry, as he realises that Vince is only interested in having a party for himself. He is also disappointed that the girl he had bonded with over pencil cases in the shop is nowhere to be seen._

_Meanwhile, Dennis makes his way to the party, telling his wife that he has developed a migraine and slicing up some chavs in the underpass._

_Howard, Vince and several assorted party guests take a game of spin the bottle downstairs to the shop, which goes horribly wrong when the bottle smashes against the counter. A furious Naboo tells them that the bottle contained a demon which can only possess the body of a virgin, leading Howard to inadvertently reveal that he is, indeed, still a virgin. _

_As they are all ordered back upstairs, Vince is pulled into the store cupboard by a beautiful woman wearing a veil. He realises that she is the Head Shaman's wife, Methuselah, looking to seek vengeance for her husband's infidelity, and makes a break for it. Dennis discovers a feather from Vince's cape stuck in Methuselah's outfit, and vows to hunt him down._

_Vince flees to the roof, where he finds Howard, in hiding from his shame. Vince discovers that he has never even kissed anyone, and the two of them begin to bond somewhat, but are interrupted by a murderous Dennis, wielding his sword after having already beheaded Lester. Vince pleads for his life by telling Dennis that he is in love with Howard, and kisses the other man when asked to prove it._

_Once Dennis has gone, Howard announces that he has fallen in love with Vince, telling him that he must feel the same way. Vince denies it, but Howard will not be swayed, and grabs him for another kiss - instead, the two of them fall off the roof and onto the bouncy castle that Vince got for Howard's birthday._

_The girl Howard met in the shop appears and he takes an interest in her again, seemingly forgetting about Vince. Vince does a complete U-turn and jealously attacks Howard, claiming that he'll 'never love again'. This lasts for all of about three seconds before another girl emerges, and the four of them climb aboard the bouncy castle, quickly joined by all the other party guests._

**Sucker Love**

_Sucker love is heaven sent  
__You pucker up, our passion spent_

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuckity-fuck fuck.

This was definitely Not Good.

It wasn't without a certain sense of injustice that Vince dashed madly through the flat, ducking and weaving between brightly-attired partygoers. Why did these things always have to happen to _him? _It couldn't just be _any _beautiful woman that pulled him into a cupboard, oh no. She _had _to be married. And not only that, but she had to be married to the Head Shaman, his boss's boss. Who also had a fucking big sword and was currently chasing after Vince with every intention of removing his head from his shoulders.

So much for his so-called luck, Vince thought darkly as he darted into the bedroom he shared with Howard, slamming the door shut behind him and fiddling with the lock to buy himself a little extra time. Of course, he had now effectively backed himself into a corner. If Dennis found him in here - which he would, inevitably - it was all over. And then he saw it - the Moon smiling down at him insipidly through the rusted old skylight window, and, beyond that, his one last saving grace - the roof. He grinned in spite of himself at his own quick thinking.

_Vince Noir, you're a genius. Fuck Einstein. Not literally - that would be hideous._

"You there, wench - tell me where that raving imbecile is, or I shall dispatch with you immediately!"

Vince jumped at the deep, rumbling voice of the Head Shaman - much too close outside the thin plywood door of the bedroom - and wasted no more time revelling in his own genius, instead climbing on top of the wardrobe and from there reaching up for the latch on the skylight. His fingers brushed the cool metal, missing it once, twice; he wobbled in his platforms and nearly fell, almost crying with frustration as the door handle started to rattle.

"Open up, you cowering wretch!"

Vince groaned and sent a silent prayer out to Jagger, finally getting a grip on the latch. He tugged on it, and for a split second it seemed as though the ancient, rusted window would stick, but then the glass shivered in its frame and the whole thing opened outwards.

Sticking his head out into the cool night sky, he was surprised to find that he wasn't alone. Howard was sat hunched over next to the chimney stack, a faraway look in his small eyes, the slight breeze sending ripples through his scruffy hair. Vince's heart twisted a little. He was beautiful.

"Hi," he announced his presence as he climbed out onto the roof. Howard looked at him.

"Hi. What are you doing here?

_Gonna have to be a little more specific than that, Howard, _Vince thought sadly. He decided to stick to the straightforward answer, and presumably the one Howard was looking for:

"Head shaman's gone mental - he thinks I got off with 'is wife - 'e's gonna chop my 'ead off!"

He sighed a little, sat down next to Howard. It was cold out here, it being the middle of December, and he suddenly wished he hadn't given Lester his cape. A blanket of indigo was thrown over the world, studded with stars, and, despite the fact that these could very well be his last few minutes on earth, Vince felt a kind of quiet tranquillity settle over him. Here, with Howard, looking out over the murky London skyline, seemed like a fitting place for him to finally face the end. But if that _was _what was on the way, there were a few things that needed to be sorted out first. Issues that needed to be discussed. He turned to face Howard, fidgeting with a piece of hair at the back of his head, suddenly unsure of himself.

"What are you doin' 'ere?"

"I'm in hiding, aren't I?" Howard responded, somewhat aggressively. Vince's brow creased with confusion.

"What?"

"In hiding from the shame - the _embarrassment _- that is my birthday."

_Oh, Howard. _Vince felt his throat constrict. Somehow, in all of the chaos, he had managed to forget about the revelation that Howard - _his _Howard - was a virgin. He knew that he was probably expected to find that hilarious, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Instead, he found it rather sweet, and just a little sad. Far from wanting to rush off and post it all over Myspace, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect the older man from anyone who might use that information to hurt him, to defend him to the last. How he had managed to go this long without having sex, Vince would never know. He really was an incredibly good-looking man, once you managed to look past the awful clothes - a _very _good-looking man, Vince thought, drinking in his friend's profile silhouetted by the moonlight. True, in spite of his claims to the opposite, Howard was almost painfully shy, and so socially awkward it was untrue. But surely there must have been _something - _a drunken fumble at school, a brief encounter in a club toilet?

That was the only life Vince really knew - from the age of about sixteen, sex had been a tool to him, a weapon, a means of getting closer to someone or keeping them at arms' length, a form of comfort to distract himself from the quest for true happiness, a means to end, or simply something to do when he was bored. He was used to people thinking of him as an object by now, something to be desired and lusted after rather than a fellow human being with thoughts and feelings and emotions, and a heart that could be broken just as easily as theirs. Howard was one of only a handful of people who never seemed to view him as such - the others being Naboo and Bollo, though they hardly counted, given that the former was an asexual alien and the latter a primate.

And whose fault was it that Howard's birthday had been such a disappointment, Vince wondered bitterly. He'd just wanted to ensure that Howard enjoyed himself for once, but somehow he'd managed to ruin everything once again. Howard hadn't wanted a big party, but Vince had manipulated it so that was exactly what he got. It had been a low, underhanded thing to do, and he knew it, but as usual, once he got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him. And the thought of Howard celebrating alone with Lester sodding Corncrake and shutting Vince out was unbearable. So he'd forced his way in, the only way he knew how.

In his newfound state of blank calmness, he felt the irrepressible need to make things up to Howard, somehow, and he reached out to briefly touch the bigger man's shoulder before quickly pulling his hand back, rebuffed by the invisible walls Howard put up to protect himself from the world.

"C'mon, Howard. It doesn't matter that you're a virgin, it's fine. Women respect that about you." _I do, anyway, _he thought, as Howard rolled his eyes. "They don't mind that you've not gone beyond a kiss."

Howard looked away.

"You've never kissed anyone, have you?" Vince guessed.

"So?!" Howard snapped defensively.

"Have you ever held anyone's hand?" He meant it as a sympathetic venture, but somehow he doubted it came out that way. He'd never been very good at saying what he meant.

"I don't like people touching me, okay?" Howard said. Vince hated the way he seemed to have withdrawn into himself, humiliated and dejected. He wanted more than anything for Howard to be happy, even more than he wanted it for himself. He just wished he knew how to make it happen. But Howard wasn't finished yet;

"Anyway, I've had deeper relationships in my mind, at a distance, than you'll ever have in your lifetime, you know that?"

_Ouch. _It took all of Vince's resolve not to flinch at that. It stung - maybe Howard hadn't intended it that way, but that was the effect it produced, all the same. Maybe because he knew it was true. For as long as he couldn't have Howard, Vince would continue with the one-night-stands, the wholly unsatisfying sexual encounters with people of various genders, allowing himself to be used and waking up every morning bruised and bloodied and hungover, hating and losing a little more of himself each time. He craved attention - it was what fuelled him, kept him going, and without it he would burn himself out completely. He needed people to need _him, _to want him, to love him, and if he couldn't have the love of the one person who truly mattered, he would have it from everybody else.

Only he couldn't very well _tell_ Howard all of that, so instead he said;

"Are you talkin' about the incident with the binoculars?"

Howard glared at him. "That was never proved, okay?"

"It was in the Guardian," Vince said, because he couldn't help himself.

"Look," Howard said slowly, as though he thought Vince was a simpleton. Maybe he _did _think that; Vince wouldn't know. They didn't exactly communicate anymore. "I don't flit about. I don't play the field. When I make that leap across the physical boundary, it'll be forever, sir!"

All of a sudden Vince wished that he had even a fraction of Howard's conviction, his passion. He felt very much as though he might cry at that moment, and as he met Howard's eyes, something electrifying and wholly indefinable passed between them. Vince would have examined this further, but, with the bad timing that was typical of their luck, the Head Shaman chose that moment to come bursting through the skylight with a cry, his sword throwing off sparks of starlight as he wielded it above his head.

"Ah, there you are! You prancing kingfisher, prepare to die!"

Vince wasn't even scared anymore; he was just tired, now. So very tired of the constant life-and-death situations, but more than that, he was tired of the way he and Howard repeatedly missed each other, neither of them quite knowing where they stood.

"Yeah, mate, look, I'm not interested in your wife; we were just standing in a cupboard together."

That sounded lame even to his own ears - even if it _was _the truth - but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

"Just 'in the cupboard' with an extreme sports model," Dennis snorted derisively, "I don't think so!"

"Honestly - I'm not interested in your wife!" Vince pleaded slightly desperately. Okay, maybe he did care a _little_, after all. He really didn't want to die. And that was a _big _sword.

"I'm in love with someone already!"

Oh, God, here it came - the confession. This would ruin him completely. Howard would never want to be anywhere near him again. He would be utterly disgusted.

"The lies of a backtracking worm!" Dennis cried in typical melodramatic fashion. If he hadn't been so scared of getting his head chopped off, Vince would have slapped him. Instead, he took a deep breath, and -

"I'm in love with Howard!"

- and suddenly it was as if the most incredible weight had lifted from his chest. It was finally out there - he'd finally said it. After months - no, _years - _of denying and repressing and hiding his true feelings, at the age of thirty years old, Vincent Noir had finally admitted his love for Howard TJ Moon on his thirty-ninth birthday party, on a rooftop under the stars during a freezing cold night in the middle of December, with a murderous albino wizard holding a sword over his head. And, for better or for worse, it felt damn good.

"Oh. Yeah. We're in love." Howard said flatly, woodenly, and then Vince's heart wasn't just sinking, but breaking, shattering into a million pieces. Howard thought he didn't mean it, that he'd just said it to save his own neck. Did he really think Vince was capable of being that callous, or even being intelligent enough to think of such a plan on his own? It would seem he did.

"Prove it," Dennis hissed, and it was those two words that sealed the deal.

Vince threw himself forwards without leaving any time for self-doubt or second-guessing, and pulled Howard into a kiss. And - _oh, God_ - even though Howard was stiff and unresponsive and Vince was having to all the work, it was still _perfect, _the best kiss he'd ever experienced in his life, because it was _Howard, _and - fuck, this was actually _Howard, _beneath his lips, in his hands. After however many years of dreaming about doing this exact thing, here he was, _actually kissing Howard, _and God, it was so good.

Somewhere, he was dimly aware of the Head Shaman groaning in disgust, but that didn't matter, because in his head it was all fireworks and violin solos and all the other clichés he'd previously had down as bullshit, and Howard was tugging on the sleeve of his tunic, and if that was enough to send sparks racing up and down his spine, what would feeling Howard's skin on his skin, Howard on top of him, Howard inside him - what would all that do to him? He kissed the corner of Howard's mouth, his jawline, feeling the stubble brush his lips, and he wanted so badly to take his time with this, to savour every touch, every press of lips as he led Howard somewhere for only the two of them, but he couldn't, because - because Dennis was still watching, and he had to make it look convincing, and to Howard it was all only an act anyway, and a thousand other reasons he didn't want to think about, so long as he could remain locked in this moment forever and ever.

But that simply wasn't possible, and he reluctantly drew away, reeling with a heady mixture of elation, crushing disappointment, and shamed guilt - he _had _just stolen Howard's first kiss, after all. Blue eyes met stunned brown, and the same frisson of electricity as before passed between them again, stronger and more tangible than ever. For a fleeting second, they were frozen in time, and a thousand unspoken promises, confessions and '_I love you'_s seemed to hang in the same air as their mingling breaths. Then Howard looked away, and the moment vanished like a wisp of smoke, as if Vince had imagined it. Maybe he had.

Because he didn't know what else to do, and because he was quite sure he would cry if he didn't do s_omething, _he turned back to the Head Shaman, arms outstretched in a gesture of triumph. The fake grin stretched his cheeks, pushing skin out of the way to fit all his teeth in; it was a wonder his face didn't shatter. Or perhaps it already was, cracks migrating over the smooth surface, splitting the perfectly chiselled lines of his jaw and cheekbones. It didn't really matter anymore - he was broken on the inside anyway, even if his outer appearance was just as flawless as ever.

"Gonna have to go away and re-think a few basic principles. Bye!"

"Bye!" Vince called after Dennis as he disappeared inside again. Laughing nervously, he turned back to Howard, who still appeared slightly shell-shocked.

"Thanks, Howard." He was trying to pass it off as a shallow, self-centred attempt to save his own life, as Howard had assumed it was, only… only now the other man was looking at him with a strangely intense expression on his face.

"Thank you," he said quietly, in a voice that was every bit as intense.

"What d'you mean?" Vince asked nervously; there was a slight tremble in his voice. He hardly dared hope…

"Thank you for the gift of love," Howard said, still in the same deep, penetrating voice.

All at once, Vince felt himself grow very still as realisation dawned. He knew what was going on here - it was exactly what Howard had said not five minutes earlier; _'when I cross that physical boundary, it'll be forever, sir!'_ Howard was never one to do things by halves - Vince had just taken his first kiss, and, through some twisted sense of nobility, he had deluded himself into thinking that it actually meant something to him. Vince had seen this too many times before, over the years - Howard pledging himself entirely to one woman, only to forget her days later when another came along. In a few minutes, he would come back to his senses, horrified at what they had done - Vince couldn't let himself be taken in by Howard's momentary delusions only to be abandoned moments later. He had _some _pride left. Besides which, it wouldn't be fair to Howard, to take advantage of him like that.

"It was just a kiss!" He protested, throwing his hands up in a defensive gesture. Even though it broke his heart to do so.

Howard snapped his fingers, totally lost in his warped fantasy. "Well, a light went on in my head then. You have flipped my switch, baby."

And if ever Vince had doubted it, he knew then that Howard couldn't truly mean what he was saying, because he had seen that gesture, heard that tone of voice, too many times to count. It was the same one Howard used when he was bragging about some - usually entirely fabricated - intellectual venture or death defying stunt. Somehow, that hurt even more - knowing that, not only did their kiss not mean anything to Howard, but also that he was using it as a way to score points, just like everybody else did. It was a means of getting to be anybody who was anybody within the social circles in which Vince moved - getting with Vince Noir, the unattainable, the one everybody wanted a piece of. The only difference being that Howard could have him any time he wanted, all he had to do was ask. He just _didn't _want him, and he never would.

"Look, Howard," Vince begged, because he wasn't sure how much more of this he could stand to listen to, "You've gotta stop falling for people when they give you the slightest bit of affection."

"Don't _pretend _you don't love me!" Howard told him, as though he had any idea what Vince felt for him, as though he had even the slightest notion of the lengths Vince went to every day to ensure that Howard _never _found out just exactly how much he cared. Pretending he didn't love Howard was the only thing he really knew how to do, and he'd gotten darn good at it.

"_Love?!" _He echoed incredulously. He should win an Oscar for this performance, surely. It wasn't fair, having to sit here and listen to all of this from Howard, having to pretend that it meant nothing to him when all he really wanted was to kiss him again.

"Oh, yes," Howard was saying.

"Howard, you've gone mad." That much, at least, was true - the light in Howard's eyes was definitely not that of the mentally stable.

"That's what this is all about -"

"No it isn't," Vince cut in quickly. He was getting desperate now, he knew, because if Howard kept on at this much longer, he would crack.

"Me and you!" Howard was still blathering on, oblivious to Vince's inner turmoil.

"What d'you mean, me and you?"

"The arguing, the bickering, it's all because of the sexual tension -"

"No, no, no…" Vince was saying, more to himself then to Howard, because he wanted more than anything to believe what the other man was saying.

" - the deep, powerful, molten sexual tension that's been brewing up between us!"

Vince laughed half-heartedly, his resolve slipping. "I don't think it was."

"Yes," much to Vince's horror, Howard began getting to his feet, balancing precariously on the roof. Christ, he really _had _lost it. "You've shown me the way."

"You're gonna fall, Howard!" Vince hoped to knock some sense into his friend, but it didn't appear to be working as Howard straightened up fully.

"You've given me the keys."

"The keys to _what?!"_

"The keys to a whole new kingdom - a whole new kingdom of gaydom!" Howard half-shouted, and then he wasn't just talking to Vince anymore, but yelling it from the rooftops; "I'm a gay! I'm a massive gayist!"

He whooped loudly, and Vince stared, pretty sure his jaw was hanging open. If it weren't for the fact that he'd just been shoved backwards through the emotional wringer, the situation would have been hilarious, he was sure of it. And then Howard was turning back to him, arms open wide and a wicked grin on his face.

"Pucker up," he invited, and then Vince felt his will crumble entirely, his eyes drifting shut as he waited to feel Howard's lips on his again… Only that wasn't quite what happened. Instead, Howard knocked him off balance; there was a brief moment in which he struggled to regain composure, and then they were both falling from the roof, hollering as they plummeted towards the earth. Vince considered how it was all a bit pointless, having his heart shredded into a million pieces to avoid decapitation by angry shaman, only to be flattened into a fashionable pancake instead.

There was a split second where his eyes met Howard's once again on the way down, and it seemed to stretch out into long moments ticking by. He smiled shyly, and Howard took hold of his hand, and then -

And then they were landing on soft, yielding plastic before being propelled back up into the air, high above the rooftops.

"Told you I'd got you a present!" Vince yelled, elated by the revelation that they weren't dead yet, inwardly congratulating himself on his choice of gift for Howard.

"You could have wrapped it," Howard joked as they landed on the bouncy castle again, mercifully coming to a stop this time.

"How cool is this?" Vince grinned.

A beat of silence passed, the air between them thrumming with something unnameable… and then it vanished as That Girl came out of the shop - the Pencil Case Girl. Vince felt his face twist into a scowl at the sight of her. She was supposed to persuade Howard into having a party, that was the deal - she wasn't supposed to _actually like _him. That was Vince's job.

"Howard, hi!" She gushed in that ridiculous, syrupy sweet voice, all lightly accented American and insipid inflection. Vince wasn't normally a violent man, quite the opposite, but he could have swung for her for taking Howard's attentions away from him.

"Hi!" Howard returned eagerly, getting to his feet with some difficulty.

"Happy birthday," Pencil Case Girl said.

"Thank you, you came back!" Howard grinned, straightening his hat.

"Yeah."

Vince watched the whole exchange from where he was still half-sprawled on the bouncy castle. He felt used, betrayed, worthless, cast aside like a coat that had gone out of fashion. Even though he knew this would happen, it still stung - how could Howard have gone from only moments before professing his love for him, shouting it from the rooftops, and now just callously abandon him in the presence of his jazzy new girlfriend? Vince struggled to his feet, a growing sense of self-righteous anger blossoming inside of him.

"Yeah, sorry, what's going on 'ere?"

"She came back!" Howard informed him excitedly. It seemed as though he had forgotten what had happened on the roof already. Maybe he had.

"Yeah? Did she?" Vince asked sarcastically. He was waving his dignity goodbye, but he didn't care - _no-one _got to treat him like that, least of all Howard.

"Yeah!"

"Great. I thought you loved me."

He knew how pathetic he sounded, how jealous and petty, but he couldn't bring himself to care very much about that, either. Howard was looking awkward now, embarrassed about his earlier outburst, and the sadistic part of Vince delighted in making him squirm, payback for toying with his emotions so heartlessly.

"Yeah, that was a momentary lapse." Howard said condescendingly. Vince recognised the tone, knew it well, but it was one he hadn't really heard since the zoo - the one that said _'I'm smart, you're dumb, so shut up before you embarrass us both'._

"Listen, fiddler on the roof," he poked Howard roughly in the chest, "We kissed up there!"

"Keep it under your hat, yeah?" Howard muttered awkwardly out of the side of his mouth. "What goes on the roof stays on the roof."

"Maybe I should leave you two alone…" Pencil Case Girl ventured hesitantly. Vince turned to her, having all but forgotten she was still there.

"Yeah, you're getting it," he told her aggressively, "We're 'avin' a few relationship problems -" Here Howard laid what was presumably intended to be a placating hand on his shoulder, except it had the exact opposite effect on Vince, instead causing his blood to boil even more furiously, "- maybe you could nick off and get us some Twiglets!"

PCG gave him a funny look; one that seemed to say _'Vince has gone psycho'_.

"Don't go anywhere, wait there." Howard pleaded with her, an apologetic note in his voice. "Vince, you're a great guy, but… the timing was off."

_Ain't it always, _Vince thought sourly. Could Howard get any more smug and patronising if he tried? He obviously considered it some great triumph in their strange ongoing war of words, knowing that he had managed to capture Vince's affections.

"Unbelievable. I've never been chucked by anyone in my life, and now I'm being chucked by _you!" _The emphasis on the word 'you' was intended to be insulting, to hurt Howard as much as Howard had hurt him. Unfortunately it didn't seem to work; if anything, Howard grew even more condescending, touching Vince's shoulder once again.

"Come on, you'll meet someone else."

"I'll never love again."

Vince wrenched his arm away from Howard's grasp, all the fight gone out of him. He was so incredibly exhausted, and utterly disheartened now that it had been proved beyond any reasonable doubt that Howard didn't feel anything in the slightest for him - beyond a friendship that was steadily deteriorating with every passing day - and probably never would.

An awkward silence descended - God, this was excruciating. Vince needed a distraction, and he needed one fast. As if on cue, one emerged in the form of the pretty girl in the shiny blue jacket he'd noticed eyeing him up earlier, wandering out of the shop.

"Hi," she greeted, looking at him coyly.

"Hey!" An entirely fake laugh burst from Vince, and he looked back at the other man.

"Hey, Howard, forget it - I'm over ya."

For the briefest of moments, something almost like regret passed over Howard's face, but it was gone before Vince could even blink, replaced with what could only be relief that things were back to normal as he extended his hand out to PCG.

"Care to bounce?"

_My heart's a tart, your body's rent  
__My body's broken, yours is bent_

"…And then my parents moved to California, so I had to go and carry on studying over there…"

Howard nodded politely as Pencil Case Girl - he knew that she had told him her name, but he couldn't remember it - told him about her life in America, but he wasn't really listening. Instead he was looking over to where Vince was still dancing with a group of his friends on the bouncy castle. They'd dragged the stereo outside to carry on the party, but Howard had soon found himself getting irritated, surrounded by all the shallow Camden types, and had wandered off to find a secluded spot in which to think on his own. Unfortunately, Pencil Case Girl had followed him.

Wait a minute, 'unfortunately'? Did he really just think that? Here was a beautiful girl who liked jazz and seemed genuinely interested in talking to him. He should have been thrilled, delighted, over the moon. Only he wasn't, because… because he was still thinking about Vince.

God, Vince. He could scarcely believe that, barely an hour ago, they had actually kissed. It had only been brief, but for those few, fleeting seconds where he'd actually had Vince's lips on his, it had seemed as though nothing could ever go wrong with the world again. He just wished that he hadn't been too stunned to do anything other than sit there and gape like a landed trout. Maybe if he had actually _done _something, taken an active role, then Vince would…

_No. _Howard shook his head forcefully. He wouldn't go down that road - it would surely lead to nothing but madness. Vince had only kissed him because otherwise the Head Shaman would have separated his head from his shoulders - he'd _used _him. Only Howard couldn't bring himself to care all that much, because the knowledge that he'd gotten that close to the younger man was still something he would treasure forever, even if it broke him up inside. And it _had _saved Vince's life. If Howard's heart being torn in two was the payment for that, then he guessed he could live with it.

The way he'd reacted afterwards, though… it made him cringe to think of it now. What the hell had he been thinking, going on to Vince about how much he loved him? Even after the other man had made it quite clear he wasn't interested, he had still refused to shut up, rambling about 'molten sexual tension' or some such. And all that stuff he had been shouting from the roof - 'a whole new kingdom of gaydom'? What did that even _mean? _No wonder Vince had thought he'd lost it - Howard would have done, too, had their positions been reversed.

It had taken falling off the roof to bring him back to his senses, to make him realise that Vince would never, _could _never love him, and that instead of the heart-pounding, spine-tingling encounter it had been for Howard, the kiss had merely been yet another of his quick-fix plans to wriggle his way out of any impossible situation. So Howard had had to give the best acting performance of his life, to make Vince believe that whatever happened on the roof had just been a temporary moment of insanity.

And it had worked, but then their positions _were _reversed somewhat, with the way Vince had seemed so hurt and betrayed. Howard had wanted to believe him so badly, but he knew that, where Vince was concerned, it wasn't a question of love at all. He sincerely doubted whether Vince was even capable of love, remembering the way in which he had spat out the word incredulously up on the roof. No, it was all about his wounded pride, not being able to accept the fact that there was _somebody _out there who didn't want him. Part of Howard had revelled in a kind of sadistic joy at bringing his ego down a peg or two. Though the last laugh was really on him - he had fallen harder for Vince than any of the cocktail-swigging androgynes who flocked around him.

Maybe Vince was right, after all - maybe Howard _did _just fall for anyone who showed him any slight signs of affection. It wouldn't really be so surprising, given how infrequently he was paid any kind of attention. And Vince was the only person who had ever really shown him any kind of compassion or friendship - perhaps that was the only reason Howard considered him in a romantic way, not because of love, but simply because no-one else had ever gotten close enough.

But no - deep in his heart of hearts, Howard knew that wasn't the case. He loved Vince; so much so that it caused him physical pain. He would do anything for him, _die _for him, if he had to. Much as he liked to pretend otherwise, Howard knew that he wasn't a particularly brave man - he was a bit of a coward, really. But Vince had saved his life so many times that it compelled Howard to be more courageous, and he had found himself more and more frequently doing things he never would have dreamed he was capable of for the other man's benefit. In the past few months, the tables had pretty much turned, and more often than not, it was _Howard _picking _Vince _up when he was down, _Howard _saving _Vince's _life. He wasn't sure whether that was a signal of how they were changing, but he did know that it made him feel pretty good, to realise how much his younger counterpart relied on him. There was only Vince - there had only _ever _been Vince, he realised that now. All the women he'd become infatuated with over the years were just a fake alibi to disguise the true object of his affections.

Only… Vince wasn't quite the same person he had once been, either, was he? Howard looked over again now to where he was still dancing in the centre of a large crowd. There were several people touching him, and Howard found himself having to swallow down the feeling of jealous possessiveness that the sight brought out in him. If Howard loaned his heart out too readily, then Vince was too giving with his body, renting it out to anyone who wanted a turn with him. He tried to be surreptitious about it, but Howard wasn't naïve, and he'd seen the bruises and the cuts, and watched the sadness in Vince's eyes go just a little bit deeper every time he was used and abandoned.

As if, somehow, he could sense that Howard was thinking about him, Vince turned to look in his direction, an indefinable expression on his face. For a moment, he looked as though he might come over, then he froze as his eyes flickered over PCG and hardened imperceptibly. Shooting Howard a withering glare, he tossed his head haughtily and went back to writhing like a lap dancer.

Howard sighed. What was he supposed to have done now?

_Carve your name into my arm  
__Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed  
_'_Cause there's nothing else to do  
__Every me and every you_

"…You're not listening to me at all, are you?" PCG was asking.

"I… erm… Yes! Of course I was, I was just, ah…"

Howard was immensely surprised to find his stammering halted by a slim finger pressed against his lips.

"That's okay," she said, smiling at him coyly, "we don't have to talk."

"Oh?" Howard tried to feign nonchalance. It didn't really work, given that his voice was cracking all over the place. "And what - err - what exactly did you have in mind?"

She smirked, as though that was exactly the answer she had been looking for, and leaned in close; so close her hair tickled his ear, and he could smell her delicate perfume.

"Where's that bedroom you mentioned earlier?"

Five minutes later, Howard found himself perched nervously on the end of his bed, watching with a wary eye as Pencil Case Girl surveyed the room he shared with Vince.

"You know, Howard, you're an awfully good-looking man," she informed him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She was still far too close - it took all of his effort not to jerk back until she was no longer encroaching on his personal space. He was pretty sure that wasn't what you were supposed to do in this kind of situation. Not that he'd know. He suddenly wished he'd paid more attention to Vince in the past when the younger man was talking about his many encounters with the female genre. And why was he still thinking about Vince? If he played his cards right here, he could very well be about to finally shed his troublesome virginity.

"I am?" He squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, er, I am. How kind of you to notice."

The hand slid up the back of his neck, toying with the strands of hair that grew there. Her face came even closer; Howard went practically cross-eyed trying to focus on it.

"How could I not notice? How could _anyone _not notice?" She sighed and looked away again. "That flatmate of yours doesn't deserve you."

Howard jerked away.

"Who - _Vince?"_

PCG nodded, frowning.

"But there's - there's never been anything… Why would you think that?"

"It's kind of obvious, Howard."

Howard's heart was thundering in his ears. If his feelings for Vince were that obvious to a relative stranger, how must they look to everyone else? Did Vince know? He must do - he knew everything else about Howard, from his mother's maiden name right down to his favourite sandwich. Had he secretly been mocking him all this time?

"Well, I don't know where you got that idea from," he heard himself saying in a strange, detached voice that didn't sound like his own. "There's never been anything like _that _between us. We're just friends."

"Are you sure about that?" She sounded skeptical.

"Of course I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh." Her face brightened visibly. "Well, in that case…"

And suddenly she was kissing him, holding his face firmly between her hands, lips moving over his. This was mental, Howard thought numbly - this time yesterday, he'd never been kissed in his life, and here he was, receiving his second one within the hour. It was alright, he supposed, but it wasn't like kissing Vince had been. Technically, it was probably better - though that might have had something to do with the fact that Howard was actually responding this time, mirroring her movements with his own - but it didn't create the same explosions in his heart and mind, didn't turn his insides to liquid and his thoughts to mush.

Before long, he was shirtless, as proceedings got steadily heavier, and part of him couldn't actually believer that this was about to happen. He knew that he should be focused on the matter at hand, that he should block any other thoughts from his mind and just enjoy it, but he couldn't, because… Because every time he looked at PCG - he _still _didn't know her name, he realised with a twist of guilt - beneath him, instead of seeing lightly tanned skin and womanly curves, he saw a pale, flat stomach and chest, jutting hipbones and legs taut with muscle and sinew. Instead of long, fine strands of brown hair fanning out across the pillow, he saw thick layers of deepest black. And instead of the delicate features and dark eyes of the girl, he saw razor-sharp cheekbones and bewitching blue irises that blinked up at him, filled to the brim with love…

He felt suddenly sick. He couldn't do this -

The door flew open.

_Sucker love, a box I choose  
__No other box I choose to use  
__Another love I would abuse  
__No circumstances could excuse_

Vince was drunk. He knew that, even as he stumbled up the stairs to the flat, half-empty bottle in his hand. He wasn't in the mood for partying anymore - he just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep. Preferably forever.

He almost sobbed with relief when he reached the door to his and Howard's shared bedroom, ready to collapse on top of his duvet and pass out. Then he paused, hand hovering on the doorknob. He could hear noises from within, sounds that seemed to caress each other in the darkness. He frowned, suddenly immensely pissed off. This was all he needed - a couple of over-amorous socialites deciding to get it on in his sleeping space. He opened the door with probably a little more force than was necessary, intending to give them a piece of his mind… and then stopped, frozen by the sight that greeted him.

There _were _two people in there, on Howard's bed. One of them was the American girl, the Pencil Case Girl, looking slightly shamefaced at having been caught out. The other, shirtless and more than a little dishevelled, was Howard.

_No. _Vince staggered backwards as though he'd been shot, feeling physically sick. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. It must be the drink. He closed his eyes, shaking his head to dispel the image. When he opened them again, it was still there, a perfectly twisted Hallmark moment. But Howard wouldn't do this to him, _couldn't _do this to him. Then again, why shouldn't he? It wasn't as though Vince had any claim on him, after all. He was free to sleep with whoever he wanted to.

"Vince…" He begged, looking rather concerned as he struggled out of the bed. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh? What is it, then? You tell me what it is, if it's not 'what it looks like'. How can you sleep with _her?! _You said you loved _me!_"

Vince cringed at his own voice. He sounded like the token spurned wife from some melodramatic soap opera. PCG was looking at him like he'd gone schizo again.

"Let's take this outside, shall we?" Howard said in a soft, warning tone, grabbing Vince's arm none-too-gently and pulling him out of the room, closing the door behind them with a soft _click!_

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" He asked once they were alone, still using the same dangerous voice.

"You said you loved me…" Vince slurred again. His head fell forwards onto Howard's shoulder. Howard took an automatic step back, as though he'd only just realised how close they were standing.

"You said you loved me… then you just go off with some - with some _tart! _How could you be so cruel, Howard? You're supposed to love _me!"_

"We've already been over this, Vince," Howard said tiredly, "I don't love you. I never have. Is that all?"

At his words, whatever was left of Vince's heart shrivelled into a blackened husk. He didn't give a damn about pride anymore, about saving face or even about getting back at Howard, because the one thing he had ever hoped and wished for had just been callously destroyed in the space of about two seconds flat.

"But Howard," he said sadly, not even knowing how he had the strength to go on speaking, "I love _you."_

_In the shape of things to come  
__Too much poison, come undone_

"What?" Howard's head snapped up at that, sure he must have heard wrong. "What did you just say?"

"I said I love you, Howard," Vince replied a little breathlessly. He was staring at Howard as though he was seeing some mythical, otherworldly being in place of the very ordinary shopkeeper he had lived with for the past however many years.

"Say it again."

"I love you, Howard."

And Howard wanted nothing more than to believe him, to just take Vince into his arms and forget about the rest of the world. But then he saw how glazed his eyes were, how glassy and unfocused. Saw the bottle in his hand. Oh.

'_Cause there's nothing else to do  
__Every me and every you_

"No you don't."

"I do! You can't tell me how I feel, Howard."

_Every me and every you…_

Vince all but threw himself at Howard, pushing his face into the crook of his neck and making slight keening noises against his skin. It was all Howard could do not to just keep him there and hold him, but it would be wrong - wrong to take advantage of Vince when he was in this state. He gently but firmly removed the smaller man's arms from around his waist and pushed him away.

_Every me… he_

"You don't love me, Vince," he said, though the words broke his heart, "the only person you've ever loved is yourself."

That hurt to say, even more so when saw Vince's eyes well up with tears, but it had to be said, because it would get Vince away from him. Howard would have plenty of time to indulge in self-flagellation later, once he knew he was in no danger of making some stupid move he would come to regret whilst Vince was blind drunk.

"How… how can you be so _mean?"_ Vince whispered. He looked so small and childlike that it created a lump in Howard's throat. He had to get away.

"Goodbye, Vince." He said softly, before retreating back inside the bedroom and shutting the door on his friend.

_Sucker love is known to swing  
__Prone to cling and waste these things  
__Pucker up, for heaven's sake -  
__There's never been so much at stake!_

Some time later, and he found himself lying very still on the bed, exhausted, spent. So that was it, then. He was finally free of his virginity. It had shadowed him for the last thirty-nine years, stalking him wherever he went, and now he had finally managed to shake it off.

He didn't know quite how he felt about that.

For starters, there had been the act of sex itself. Howard wasn't sure he had reacted to it in quite the normal way. From a physical point of view, he supposed it had been alright, if only for the fact that he had needed any kind of release for quite some time now. But emotionally… well, there had been no emotions involved, at least on his part. He had felt disconnected somehow, detached - it had almost been like an out-of-body experience, his physical being working on autopilot as his consciousness floated somewhere near the ceiling. He was fairly sure that wasn't what was supposed to happen.

Oh, for fuck's sake. This was ridiculous. He had finally gotten laid, and not a moment too soon, considering that he would be forty next year. He should be elated. But instead, he just felt numb.

And he knew why, that was the really pathetic part. All of his angsting was just over the fact that the person he had really wanted to take that leap across the physical boundary with was the same one he'd shut the door on some indefinable amount of time ago. How could he have turned his back on Vince - when Vince was clinging to him and near-crying and saying over and over that he loved him - to surrender his cherry, so to speak, to some jazzy American girl he'd only known for five minutes? Okay, so she was pretty, she seemed to like him, she even liked the same things that he did - but she just wasn't Vince.

_But Vince doesn't want you, does he? _A sly voice asked inside Howard's head. That much had been made pretty clear, after all. There had been all that stuff out in the hallway, sure, but Howard knew Vince well enough by now to know that it was all a show. For starters, he had been off his head, but most of all… Vince always wanted what he couldn't have. The fact that Howard had 'chucked him', in his own words, just made him into some unattainable conquest, leaving Vince unsatisfied until he'd managed to effectively seduce him.

If he carried on trying, Howard's resolve probably wouldn't last very long.

_I serve my head up on a plate  
__It's only comfort, calling late  
_'_Cause there's nothing else to do  
__Every me and every you_

Vince was fuming - he was literally shaking, he was so angry. It was a strange feeling, because he didn't really get angry all that often. He _made _people angry, but it was an emotion he rarely experienced himself. Until now, it seemed.

And it was all down to Howard, of course. Wasn't everything? Howard constantly belittling him and minimising his feelings, as though he wasn't capable of human emotion. Vince had just more or less poured his heart out to the older man, and all he'd been able to do was look at him with that stony expression, and tell him he was wrong. As if he knew anything about how Vince felt.

"_You don't love me, Vince. The only person you've ever loved is yourself."_

And, okay, so he was drunk - but not so drunk he didn't know what he was saying. And now Howard was probably off fucking his jazz tart, not thinking about Vince in the slightest. Or maybe he was. Maybe they were both in there laughing at him. Maybe she was kissing Howard right at this instant, showing him what Vince had done wrong.

Well, fine. If Howard didn't want him, he'd just have to find someone who did.

He made his way back through the flat, to the knot of fashionable young Camden types who were milling about in the living room. He noticed one skinny guy wearing an eyepatch looking at him in the instantly recognisable manner of somebody who wanted a quick shag, and sent him a seductive 'come hither' look.

Five minutes later, and he was being pushed up against the wall and kissed hard, an unfamiliar tongue down his throat. A leg was forced between his own, so that he could feel the strange man's arousal pressing against his thigh. Intrusive hands wandered all over his body, tangling in his hair and tugging it hard enough to make his eyes water. But that was fine. The pain was good. It gave him something to focus on, helped distract him from Howard.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, pushing him to his knees. Vince went with it, compliant, but it suddenly occurred to him what he was doing, in the middle of his living room, in full view of everyone. Possibly the worst thing was that no-one really seemed to take any notice, as though they'd come to expect this sort of thing from him. He wondered what Howard would think if he could see. If he wasn't too busy with _her._

Thankfully, it didn't last long, and then Eyepatch Guy was walking away, and Vince was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, trying very hard not to gag. It still wasn't enough, though. Because he was still thinking about Howard. He needed some relief of his own.

He became aware of someone watching him, and looked up to see the girl he had bounced with earlier, the one with the shiny blue jacket. He got to his feet clumsily, trying to look for all the world like someone who hadn't just been fellating a complete stranger. He must have been somewhat successful, because the girl smiled as he made his way over to her.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"That jacket… is _genius."_

He was slurring, and he knew it, but she didn't seem to care as her smile grew even wider and she looked up at him coyly, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. Vince took her drink from her and downed it in one go before setting it down on the nearest available surface. He wasn't in the mood for small talk. Instead, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear;

"I know someplace we can go."

_Like the naked leads the blind  
__I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind  
__Sucker love I always find  
__Someone to bruise and leave behind_

Vince watched as the girl he'd just had sex with (in Naboo's bedroom, no less - he made a mental note to make sure the shaman never found out) stormed about, gathering up her clothes. She was angry, he could tell. He couldn't blame her, really.

In his experience, not many girls appreciated being called 'Howard' whilst their partner was in the throes of ecstasy.

So much for distractions.

Bruises stood out starkly against her pale flesh as she hurriedly pulled her t-shirt back on, and Vince found that he had to look away, knowing that he'd been the one to put them there. It didn't matter that he had identical marks on his own body, or that she'd been practically _screaming _his name only ten minutes before as she raked her nails down his back - it was the same price he paid for every one-night-stand; the burning sensation of guilt and shame that followed the momentary bliss of his orgasm. It ate him up inside, thinking of all the people - many of whom he had never bothered even getting to know their names - he had seduced and fucked and ultimately abandoned when he knew full well what it felt like to be rejected.

His conscience wouldn't stop him from doing it, though, because he needed that moment of release, when his mind went oh-so-beautifully blank, and nothing hurt any more. It was an addiction, and the one person that could help him to break the cycle was the only one who didn't want him. He didn't know if that was karma, or irony, or just someone's way of having a big laugh at his expense, but it was hell.

The girl was gone now, thankfully, and Vince slid down deeper under the covers, feeling his consciousness slip away from him. He was tired now… so very tired. He was dimply aware of someone coming into the room, a familiar, lisping voice talking to him. He panicked as he remembered where he was, but Naboo didn't sound angry; he sounded _concerned. _That was odd. The last thing he registered before he blacked out was someone scooping him up with ease, someone with large, excessively hairy arms.

And then there was nothing.

_All alone in space and time  
__There's nothing here, but what here's mine_

When Howard awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed and a horrible aching sensation in all of his limbs. He groaned as the memories from the previous night came flooding back to him - he'd been publicly humiliated, kissed his best friend, - whom he also happened to be hopelessly in love with - had his heart broken and lost his virginity all within the space of a few hours.

It must have been one hell of a birthday party.

_Something borrowed, something blue  
__Every me and every you_

Vince felt sick. His head hurt. His heart hurt even more.

These were the things he noticed as he fell out of bed in a tangle of sheets, and noted that it would probably be another one of 'those days'. Howard's bed, he realised, was already empty

Ignoring the fact that his stomach appeared to be performing triple somersaults, he surveyed his wardrobe, pondering what to wear. Then he decided he couldn't be bothered and threw on the first things he laid his hands on.

It didn't really matter, at the end of the day.

_Every me and every you  
__Every me… he_

Howard was in the kitchen buttering toast by the time Vince stumbled in, reaching for the Resolve and wearing dark sunglasses even though he was indoors in the middle of winter. Howard was no fashion expert, but he was pretty sure the bright orange kimono he was wearing really _didn't _go with the electric blue leggings, either.

"Breakfast?" He offered, wafting a piece of toast in his general direction. Vince shook his head rapidly, looking rather green around the edges.

"No thanks."

_Every me and every you  
__Every me… he_

"Howard…" Vince began, wondering how to explain himself, "I'm sorry for... y'know... _throwin' _myself at you last night."

"That's okay," Howard responded, rather woodenly, "You were drunk, so I forgive you. Besides, you didn't manage to _completely _ruin the evening."

Vince swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

"You mean… you and that girl…?"

"Yes, sir - Howard TJ Moon is a virgin no longer. I have crossed that physical boundary now, Vincey m'lad - I now know the meaning of true love -"

"Love?!" Vince scoffed. He knew that Howard was acting, bigging himself up the way he always did, but it still hurt. "She doesn't _love _you, Howard."

"Well, you may say that, little man, however -"

"She doesn't love you." He repeated dully.

Howard dropped the act, his whole body slumping visibly as though he was a marionette whose strings had just been cut.

"Yeah? And what makes you so sure of that? What could _you _possibly know about love?"

"I paid her to talk you into having a party. She was never interested in you. She probably only slept with you out of pity. That's the only way for you to get a shag, isn't it, Howard?"

"You fucking - I hate you!" Howard screamed in a way that Vince had never heard from him before and never wanted to hear again. "Why do you have to ruin every good thing that happens in my life?! Do you get some kind of twisted, sadistic pleasure from it, you sick little pervert?! Or was it just too much for you to handle that maybe someone was interested in _me _for once, rather than _you?! _You're a cold-hearted, spineless, selfish _bitch, _Vince, and I hope to _God _that one day soon you get the comeuppance you deserve!"

Howard's ranting ceased, the man himself stood in the middle of the kitchen, breathing heavily. For a moment, Vince was almost certain that he was going to get hit again, but then he tore from the room, toast forgotten.

Vince moaned softly and rested his head against the wall. The fact that Howard had been one hundred percent right in everything he'd said did little to quell his headache.

* * *

**A/N: **Only one left... I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. I think I'm going to miss writing this, even though I'll be relieved to finally get it finished.

Reviews are love, as always.

xxx


	20. Loose Ends

**A/N: **OH MY GOD, here it is at long, _long _last - the conclusion! Sorry for the slight delay in posting this, I've just been being a real perfectionist about this chapter, because I know that a lot of people have been waiting for it for a long time, and I wanted it to do the rest of the story justice. I hope I've succeeded.

You may also have noticed that I've upped the rating - I don't think it's _too _bad, but I'm aware that I'm slightly more insensitive than most people, so I thought it best to be on the safe side.

Other than that, there's not really much else to say here, except - for the last time:

Enjoy the show...

- - - - - X - - - - -

'_**The Chokes' episode recap: **__Vince is hosting a cabaret evening at the Velvet Onion, and is desperate to replace the recently-deceased lead singer of his headline act, The Black Tubes. He is told that he can only do so if he can fit into a pair of incredibly tight drainpipes. Meanwhile, Howard learns that big shot director Jurgen Haabermaster will be present, and pleads with Vince to let him star in the show, even though he can't act._

_Vince attempts to wither his legs down to size in time for the gig as Howard undergoes secret theatre training with retired actor Monty Flange. But who will be the one to earn their big break, and finally leave the Nabootique in pursuit of fame and stardom?_

**Loose Ends**

The tension in the shop was so thick, Vince swore you could have cut it with a knife. Howard was stood by the door, suitcases in hand, looking nervous but determined.

He was going. He was really going.

Naboo and Bollo said their goodbyes first, keeping things brief. Vince watched as though from outside of himself as Naboo shook Howard's hand, as Bollo awkwardly patted him on the back and got his name wrong. Then suddenly Naboo was hustling the ape out of the room, talking loudly about a 'thing' that needed doing, leaving Howard and Vince alone together.

Oh.

"You… You're really leaving?"

"Yeah. I am."

Howard's jaw was set - he had made up his mind about this. There was a long pause. They weren't supposed to be like this, all awkward and stilted. They should never have gotten to this point. Whatever had gone wrong between them should have been put right long ago, before it could escalate and snowball into this unfixable situation. Vince wanted to reach for the older man, to beg and plead with him to stay, to hang around his ankles if he had to. But he couldn't move, rooted to the spot. Howard seemed so very far away, even though there couldn't have been more than three feet between them.

Howard, for his part, was fighting an internal battle. He had his plane tickets, a lucrative deal with Jurgen Haabermaster; his multi-purpose tweed utility suit was packed in case of emergencies. He was going. He _had _to go - he was going to finally be somebody, a feat he could never achieve stuck in this dead-end job, in this run-down flat in the middle of Dalston.

Only… only he would be leaving Vince behind. It didn't seem right, somehow - him jetting off to Denmark to seek fame and fortune, while Vince - beautiful, special Vince, who deserved so much more in life - remained stuck in this ugly town, working tirelessly behind the counter in a dodgy second-hand shop. Whenever he had thought about this fated day in the past - the day when they would finally separate - he had always pictured Vince being the one to swan off in pursuit of stardom, not the other way around.

"Well…" Vince was saying, "I'll miss ya, Howard. We've 'ad some crazy times, 'aven't we?"

"That we have, little man, that we have."

In any other situation, this would have led to a crimp, but now was not the time.

"You'll send me a postcard from Denmark, won't you?"

"If you want."

"And I can ring you, right? Whenever I want to?"

"Er… I guess so."

Vince cringed at the hesitation in Howard's tone. He really didn't want to be a part of his life anymore, then. After being inseparable for the last however many years, this was all they had left. The last few remaining threads that tied them together were fraying rapidly.

"Well…" Howard said awkwardly, not quite knowing what else to do, "I'll be seeing you…"

"Yeah."

The older man gave a small, sad smile before turning towards the door.

"Hey, Howard?"

He half-turned back, frowning at Vince. A split second later, he received an armful of his very soon-to-be former flatmate as Vince all but launched himself at him, a neon blur flinging skinny arms around his neck and clinging on for dear life. Howard staggered backwards, taken completely off-guard. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, and for a moment he just hung there, before something in him clicked and he realised that this was the _last time _he would be seeing Vince for months, after years of running and fighting and laughing and loving and _dying _together. And then he was pulling the smaller man to him with equal force, thinking about ear-splitting electro and mismatched socks and inane questions and blue eyes and everything he would be leaving behind. He didn't know how long they stayed that way - it could have been five seconds, or five minutes, or five eternities - but then they both seemed to come to their senses and released each other simultaneously.

Vince sniffed hard and looked down at the floor, hiding behind his fringe.

"Please don't cry," Howard begged, swallowing the lump that had formed in his own throat.

"M'not _cryin'_." Vince muttered sulkily. Howard tilted his chin up and wordlessly brushed away the tears that were already making their way down his face.

"I'll come back and visit soon, yeah?"

"Wait, Howard. Before you go…"

Vince yanked off one of the chains from around his neck and placed it in Howard's hand, closing his fist over it. Howard looked down in confusion and to his surprise saw that it was the silver lightning-bolt necklace he had bought for Vince aeons ago now, when he had first pulled him out of school to work at the Zooniverse. It wasn't the prettiest piece of jewellery Vince owned, nor the most expensive, and Howard hadn't seen it for years; he had rather assumed that it had gotten lost somewhere amongst the oceans of clutter they had accumulated between them. He looked back up at Vince questioningly.

"Take it," Vince said softly.

Howard shook his head. "I can't do that, Vince - it's yours."

"Howard, take it - please," Vince begged, "I want you to 'ave somethin' to remember me by. So you don't forget me."

"I could never forget you. Even if I wanted to."

"Sure, you say that _now," _Vince rolled his eyes and offered a watery grin, "but when you're some big-shot movie star, you won't be thinkin' about me, stuck here." He sighed, all traces of a smile vanishing.

"I _will _miss you, Howard."

"Yeah. I'll miss you, too."

"You won't. But thanks for sayin' it."

Howard shook his head. He just had no idea, did he?

"I'd better…" He gestured vaguely towards the door. "My taxi's waiting."

"Go on, then - don't want to miss your flight." Vince ruffled his hair in an adorably awkward manner. "Good luck, Howard."

"Back atcha, little man."

He turned towards the door again. This was it, this time. Do or die. He took a deep breath - and then stepped over the threshold, walking away from the Nabootique and towards his new, unfamiliar life. Life after Vince. Life A.V.

Back in the shop, Vince let waited until Howard's taxi had driven out of sight, and then let go of the composure he had been working so hard to control, slumping over the counter.

A few more threads snapped.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Vince woke slowly, in the way that you do when you don't really want to wake up at all. The cold winter sunlight from outside hurt his eyes, which was odd because he hadn't been drinking. There seemed to be something heavy weighing down on him - metaphorically speaking - only he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

Swinging his legs out of bed, he noticed that Howard's was already empty. He'd probably gone down to the shop - he liked to be up early to arrange his stationery. Shaking his head, Vince pulled on his fluffy, sparkly dressing gown and headed downstairs.

"Howard? Howard, you up?"

Apparently not - the shop was dark and empty. Vince scratched his head in puzzlement, wondering where Howard had gotten to. Maybe he had gone out to buy some corks…

Oh, of course he hadn't, who did he think he was kidding? Howard was _gone. _As in _never coming back. _He was in Denmark, learning how to be a famous actor.

"Vince?"

He jumped at the lisping voice behind him, turning to find himself face-to-face with Naboo.

"What are you doin' down 'ere in lookin' like you've just escaped from the loony bin? Go an' get dressed - you'll scare away all the customers."

Vince didn't move, save for swaying a little on the spot. He felt suddenly as though all the air had gone from the room. Howard wasn't here. He wasn't going to come back…

"Vince…?" Naboo looked at him more closely now, concerned in spite of himself. "Are you ill?"

"Yeah," he replied softly, "I guess I am.

- - - - - X - - - - -

_Dearest Vince, _

_I just thought I'd write to let you know how I'm doing. Copenhagen is a fantastic city. You'd like it here, I think. Well, you'd like the pastries, anyway._

_Haven't really done an awful lot of work yet, but I'm sure that'll come soon. Jurgen did tell me about this advert he wants me to star in, though. If I'm honest, it sounds a bit… well, dodgy. But if it's my ticket into Hollywood, then I'll take it sir, you bet your bottom dollar._

_How are you? I hope that everyone is okay and you haven't managed to burn the shop down or anything yet. Haha. _

_I miss you. You probably think I'm just saying that, but I do - I miss your eyes and your smile and your laugh, and all your stupid questions that used to drive me up the wall. I even miss our fights. Nothing's quite the same without you. I love you. I love you. I love you I love you Iloveyouloveyouloveyou -_

Howard sighed and tore up the postcard with a groan of frustration. This was his third attempt, but, like all the others, there was no way he could send it. Why was this so difficult? He was writing to _Vince_ - there was a time not so very long ago when talking to him was the easiest thing in the world.

But now they were in completely different countries, separated by at least a mile of sea (possibly more than that - he'd never been all that good at Geography in school. Or Maths), and he couldn't even write a simple postcard to the man was supposed to be his best friend without sounding like a complete and utter halfwit.

He supposed he could try ringing - but he was afraid. Afraid that it would be awkward. Afraid that they wouldn't know what to say to each other. Afraid that they _would_. Afraid that Vince wouldn't even _want _to speak to him - after all, he hadn't exactly made an effort to call yet, either.

He hoped that Vince was okay, though. He did have a bit of a tendency to get himself into trouble, and although he was often more than capable of handling himself, Howard had long suspected that he was a good deal more fragile than he seemed. He often needed someone to remind him that he was only human, in spite of everything…

Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to leave, after all. He thought back to their tearful farewell. There had been something in the way Vince had thrown himself at him, he was sure about it. But what? Love?

_You're deluding yourself, Howard, _his brain told him firmly. Sighing, he picked up his long-cold coffee and attempted not to think about Vince.

He didn't succeed very well.

- - - - - X - - - - -

"Who the 'ell's this?!"

Oh dear. Naboo took one look at Vince's expression, his face a mask of pure thunder as he stood in the doorway, and had to fight the urge to cower behind Bollo.

"This is Adam, our new employee. Oh, don't look at me like that - someone needs to manage the shop now that Howard's left, and God knows you're incapable of doin' anythin' yourself."

"Why… why does he look like that?"

'That' presumably referred to the fact that Adam was dressed like a much younger and, in Naboo's opinion, more attractive version of Howard, complete with Hawaiian shirt and moustache.

"Thought that maybe you wouldn't notice the difference."

"How can you say that?! You dress some… _person _up as my best friend, and you think I won't even notice?! Well, you're not replacing Howard, Naboo, I won't let you. I want him gone."

"Vince -"

"Just get rid of him! I don't want to see him!"

Vince turned on his heel and tore upstairs to the flat. Moments later, the sound of a bedroom door slamming could be heard. Naboo sighed, massaging his temples.

"Sorry about that," he apologised to Adam, "he'll come round in a bit. Why don't you make yourself useful and get us some tea, yeah?"

"Precious Vince gone mad," Bollo said sadly once he'd gone.

"'E's not mad, Bollo, 'e's just… lost. None of the magic is working."

"Because Vince lose his sparkle?"

"No. Or at least, not just that. It's not just about Vince - it never was. It's the two of them together - that kind of chemistry provides the foundations for just about anything to happen. Now that Howard's gone, the link's been broken, and nothing works as well as it should do."

"What do we do?"

"I'd like to say that we can find Howard and fix them again, but I'm not sure we can, this time. They're the only ones that can save themselves now."

- - - - - X - - - - -

"Howard? It's me. Vince. Um… I'm guessing you're busy, so call me when you get this, yeah? 'Kay, bye."

- - - - - X - - - - -

"Howard? Stop ignoring me, I know you're there. _Please _pick up. I… I just want to talk to you. It's not the same here without you. Naboo's hired this new worker for the shop - he is _well _dry. 'E doesn't know how to crimp or nuffin'! I miss you, Howard."

- - - - - X - - - - -

"'Ey, Howard! … You _wanker_. You think I care 'bout you? I don't - I don't fucking care. What are you even doin', callin' me? I don't wanna speak to you. Never never ever again. Nuh-uh… Hello? Hellooooooo??! Knock, knock, who's there? I can't hear you! I'm in… in a tunnel, haha… Howard? 'Oward, is that you? S'me, Vinsh! Or is it you? I dunno. I think… think I 'ad a bit too much to drink. Maybe somethin' else too, I can't remember. I've been bad, Howard, please don't tell! Everythin's all black and white…like zebras! You remember the zebras, Howard, at the zoo? God, I feel like I'm dyin'… I _am _dyin', without you. I'm not interested in your wife, I'm in love with Howard! I fuckin' love you, small eyes! You wanna fuck me, Howard? 'Cause you can if you want to, y'know, I don't mind. You do want to, don't you? 'Course you do, everyone does! I'm Vince Noir, rock 'n' roll shtar! … Howard? Howard, are you there? Hey, who is this? Why'd you call me if you're not gonna shay anythin'? Prick."

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard was feeling decidedly miserable as he ponced about filming for a new Danish TV show in Jurgen's studio. It had been almost two weeks now, and his mood had been steadily declining every day. Instead of spending less time thinking about Vince, he'd been thinking of him more and more. It didn't help that on his third day of being here, he'd been mugged and had his phone stolen, meaning that he had no way of knowing whether or not Vince had tried to contact him. Of course, he could always ring Vince on the landline of the flat he was renting, but he couldn't quite work up the courage. Just in case Vince didn't want to speak to him after all.

"Howard, it seems as though you are not in the mood to act today. What is the matter?"

He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to punch Jurgen in the face, just as he had done to Gideon all those years before. How times changed.

"I just… can't seem to get it right."

"I see. This is supposed to be a happy scene, full of joy and energy. Why don't you try casting your mind back to the time when you were happiest?"

Howard thought. The trouble was, he couldn't actually remember a time when he had been really, truly happy.

"Come on, Howard… you must know, surely? When was the last time you were happy?"

Howard gritted his teeth. He was beginning to think this acting malarkey was a load of bullshit. Still, he closed his eyes and thought some more, going through all of his mental filing cabinets in search of a time less desolate than this. Then it was as if a dam had burst within his mind, and memory upon memory came crashing down on him with amazing clarity:

"_You saw 'im! You saw my boy!"_

"_Howard, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have made you do the fight… I just wanted you to be happy…"_

"_Maybe I should knock yours back a bit…"_

"_Come on, Howard. Maybe we'll just have to be freaks together."_

"_Are you really dead, Howard?"_

"_You can't die again, you can't leave me again!"_

"_I'm like Mowgli - the retro version."_

"_Do you really think the animals are interested in Gary Numan?"_

"_It takes about ninety mink to make a small ladies' glove."_

"_That's 'cause they're really crap at sewing,"_

"_What am I, a pit pony?"_

"_I found them!"_

"_Stop saying that, we're a team!"_

"_Howard, it's freezing out here!"_

"_Day twelve. Vince dead."_

"_Vince! You're alive!"_

"_Vince, this is difficult for me, but I feel as though I should say this... I love you, Vince."_

"_Are you laughing at me?!"_

"_I wanna sleep… I'm so tired, Howard."_

"_Did you kiss 'im?"_

"_What _really _went on between you and Tommy?"_

"_It's impossible to be unhappy in a poncho!"_

"_It takes a bit more than a Mexican rug to cheer me up."_

"_Are you _jealous, _Howard?! I didn't _fancy _her!"_

"_Do you even like me anymore, honestly?"_

"_I can hear them all screaming, Howard…"_

"_We_ are_ going to be okay, Howard. You 'an me. As long as we're together, we'll be okay."_

"_Look, Vince is a friend of mine; I couldn't do that to him."_

"_I love you, Howard, did you know that? And I hate you. 'Cause I know what you did, see. But I love you more."_

"_I don't see how it's any of your business what I do."_

"_I'm sorry, Howard…"_

"_You always have to spoil it, don't you? I knew I should have gone for the Gothic Threeway…"_

"_Do you believe in fate, Howard?"_

"_Hey, Howard? Can I be a bridesmaid at the wedding?"_

"_Are you trying to come on to me?"_

"_I'm drawing a line in the sand!"_

"_I love you, Howard."_

"_Actually, Milky Joe's calling me, so I'd better go see what he wants…"_

"_I've just spent four hours cleaning that filth off the shutters!"_

"_No smoke without fire."_

"_You're such a coward! You always leave, don't you, at the drop of a hat!"_

"_I'm gonna kill you!"_

"_It was just a joke!"_

"_Kinky."_

"_You don't _talk _now, Vince, you _listen!"

"_You - you hit me!"_

"_You are so anal, Howard."_

"_You saved my life. So thank you."_

"_I went to the doctor's… he's confirmed the worst."_

"_Hey, I'm here for you."_

"_If he touches you again, I swear, I'll fucking kill him."_

"…_Can I have a hug?"_

"_It's not good enough, little man, I need a gesture."_

"_Howard… Howard, you're hurting me!"_

"_Don't worry, I don't fancy _you."

"_The deep, powerful, molten sexual tension that's been brewing up between us…"_

"_I'm in love with Howard!"_

"_Oh. Yeah. We're in love."_

"_I'll never love again."_

"_I love you, Howard."_

"_You don't love me, Vince. The only person you've ever loved is yourself."_

"_I want you to 'ave something to remember me by. So you don't forget me."_

Once the floodgates had been opened, they wouldn't stop coming. True, not all of them could be called happy times by textbook definition, but in a way the painful memories were just as important as the sunshiney ones, if not more so. They all carried the same message - he couldn't survive without Vince, and he'd been incredibly stupid to think otherwise. Vince was his light, his life, his _everything_… without him, Howard was half a man.

He'd been wrong to think he could leave, but he realised that now. Which meant that the next thing he had to do was get on a flight to London as soon as possible, and attempt to salvage whatever was left of their relationship.

- - - - - X - - - - -

"Unbelievable. His legs aren't even that thin."

Vince feigned disgust as he watched the Sammy the Crab parading around as frontman on the new Black Tubes video, but in all honesty, he wasn't really that bothered. Compared to the pain of missing Howard every day, not getting into a band was nothing. He hadn't even really _wanted _to be join up with them all that much - he'd just needed something to focus on to take his mind off Howard. Not that it had worked.

But he had to put on a front for Naboo and Bollo, pretending that he was fine and everything was just the same as usual. Because if they found out how close to the edge he still was, they'd probably have him chucked in the asylum.

The shop door opened, and Vince glared, preparing to give whoever it was a piece of his mind. They were closed, for fuck's sake - couldn't they read the sign? Then he froze, stunned into silence by what he saw.

Howard.

Howard was there, standing in the doorway and looking rather sheepish.

Vince gaped. He had literally no idea what to say. All rational thought had left him - the same sentence seemed to be whirling through his head over and over again: _'Howard's back.'_

"Hey, guys." Howard greeted, sounding somewhat nervous. Vince wanted to leap up and hug the life out of him, to sob into his shoulder and beg him not to leave again, but the counter was in the way, a physical obstacle to represent the metaphorical barrier that had sprung up between them. So instead he did the only thing he knew how to do, and launched an attack.

"What are you doin' 'ere? Thought you'd 'gone off to see Jurgen'?" His voice was high and mocking, and he was fully aware of how pathetic he sounded, but he couldn't help himself. The memory of what Howard had done to him, leaving him to fend for himself so that he could chase stars in Hollywood, effectively trading him in for fame - it still hurt.

"What can I say?" Howard sighed melodramatically. "Jurgen offered me a lot - he offered me money, fame, international art house acclaim - but I thought 'do I need this'? And I realised - I've got everything I need right here."

He ruffled the fur on the top of Bollo's head, and Vince found himself having to blink back tears. He'd come back. He'd really come back. Because he'd missed them. It wasn't quite a profession of undying love, but it was a start. Maybe now that they'd had some time away from each other, realised that they simply couldn't function apart, they would be able to start piecing back together the remains of whatever relationship they had.

"What would you do without me?" Howard was asking. "I'm irreplaceable." He laughed and chucked Bollo under the chin.

"Adam?" The gorilla called. Vince felt himself grow cold. Oh, God. He'd forgotten about Adam. How would this look, now?

"Yeah?" Adam replied, coming out from behind the shelf. Howard did a double take that in any other circumstances would have been rather amusing, looking at the young man oddly. Vince concentrated on staring at Howard, hoping to send him some sort of telepathic message: _'It's not what it looks like, Howard. If you've ever believed me in anything, believe me now - it's _not _what it looks like.'_

There was nothing. Howard wouldn't even _look _at him.

"He came back," Naboo told Adam. "You're fired."

Adam sloped off without saying anything more, but the damage was already done. The hurt in Howard's eyes was clear as day, even as he tried to hide it. There was an awkward, tense silence, broken only by the jingle from some dodgy advert on the TV.

"Oh my day, what's this?" Vince said rather lamely, feigning an enormous interest in whatever was being advertised. Amazingly, it seemed to do the trick, as three other pairs of eyes turned towards the ancient set. Then someone whom Vince had hoped never to see again appeared on the screen.

"Hello. I'm Jurgen Haabermaster."

"Yeah, let's have the TV off, shall we?" Howard leaped in quickly. He went to go and switch it off, but Bollo held him back.

"Easy. Hang on a sec." Vince half-rose from his chair. If this was something Howard had made during his time away, then he wanted to see it.

"When I'm making my avant garde films, I can often suffer from the pain of trapped wind," Jurgen was saying in the advert, "It can be very uncomfortable, like having an angry crab scuttle around in my tummy space."

There was something of a collective gasp as Howard appeared on-screen, dressed as the 'angry crab of trapped wind'. Was this the only reason why he had come back, then? Not because he missed them at all, but because he was forced to make embarrassing adverts? That stung.

"Oh, my sweet Lord," Vince looked at him. "Are you the new face of trapped wind?" He laughed nastily, hating himself for doing so when Howard looked pained. "Nice work, Howard."

The advert continued, but none of them were really paying that much attention to it anymore. Vince got to his feet, unable to look at anyone.

"Right, I've, erm… got somethin' that needs doin', so I'll be seeing you, yeah? S'good to have you back, Howard." He added, making it sound like an afterthought, though it was really all he could think about.

Then he fled up the stairs to the flat, desperate to be alone.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard stared after Vince, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Okay, he supposed that _some _teasing over the ad had been pretty much inevitable, but he had expected a slightly warmer welcome, given the way Vince had tearfully thrown himself at him when he'd left. And the younger man was acting frankly… odd. Odder than usual, even.

"I never thought I'd be sayin' this, Howard," Naboo told him, "but it's good to have you back."

"What, so you've go someone to take the piss out of again?" He asked bitterly.

"No, so we can finally get this place back into some semblance of proper working order." The shaman said evenly. "It's been chaos these past two weeks."

"Well, it would be, without my superior managerial skills."

"Yeah, don't flatter yourself _too _much."

Naboo glanced furtively over both shoulders before whispering: "Look, he'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but Vince has been a wreck without you."

"Oh, yeah, he obviously missed me so much." Howard rolled his eyes. "Naboo, he can't even stand to be in the same _room _as me."

"Oh, he missed you. Trust me."

"Then what was all that about?" Howard gestured vaguely.

"I don't think even Vince knows why he does half he things he does. But he did miss you, more than you'll know."

"I… thanks." Howard didn't quite know what else to say. He had a lot to the think about as he headed up to the flat.

"Howard?" Naboo called after him.

He paused on the third step, looking back. "Yeah?"

"…Maybe I missed you, too. A bit."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Don't you dare tell anyone I said that, or I'll turn you into a crab for real."

"I won't. Cheers, Naboo!" Howard grinned.

His smile faded as he reached the bedroom, knocking on the door and entering nervously when he received no answer. Vince was sat on his bed, chewing a thumbnail absently and staring into space. He had gotten changed, Howard noticed. He was glad - the black and white look didn't really suit him. It just wasn't bright enough.

"Hey," he greeted, sitting down next to Vince. He tried not to notice how close the younger man was, that he could feel the body heat radiating from him and smell his hairspray. He tried to ignore the way his insides fluttered as Vince's shoulder brushed against his, or when he felt the rush of air as he sighed. For the most part, he was unsuccessful.

"Why'd you leave, Howard?" Vince asked.

"What?"

"I just… want to know. Why did you leave?"

"I told you - to work with Jurgen Haabermaster, further my acting career -"

"That's not why. If it was, you wouldn't have come back."

"_You _were going to leave," Howard pointed out. "To join the Black Tubes."

"I was never _actually _going to go. I've never left, despite your constant assumptions that I'm gonna be off like a shot the first chance I get."

"Well, you don't exactly make it easy, Vince." Howard sighed. He could sense a fight coming on, and he really didn't want that. "Two weeks ago you were all over me, practically begging me not to go, and then I get back and all you can do is laugh. I just can't get my head around how you can change so quickly, why you always say one thing and then contradict yourself with another. It makes no sense."

"You're supposed to be the smart one; 'aven't you figured it out yet?"

"Yeah, and you're supposed to be the brave one, so why don't you just come out and say whatever it is you've been meaning to say?"

"Fine!" Vince shot up off the bed, pacing the confines of their tiny room. "You really want to know? It's because I love you, you moron! I love your stupid moustache and your small eyes and your beautiful, generic face. I love your horrible shirts and your freaky stationery and the way you organise your socks in alphabetical order of colour, even though that is _well _weird. I even love your _jazz - _even though it's the most God-awfulest thing to have ever been called music, even though it makes my _ears _bleed - because it's _you_. I. Love. You. It's completely_ ridiculous _and I hate myself for bein' _that _stupid, but I can't help it - I always 'ave done, and I'll probably never stop."

Vince suddenly stopped mid-rant, breathing hard, staring at Howard with wide, terrified eyes as he realised what he'd just said. Then he tore out of the room and down the stairs. Seconds later, the front door banged open and then shut again as he left the shop.

Howard remained where he was for at least five minutes before it began to sink in what the other man had said. Vince had just told him he loved him. _Him. _Howard Moon. There was no way. That just wasn't even possible. But then… what if it was? Vince had seemed pretty sure of it, as he'd practically screamed it at him from the other side of the room.

Oh, God.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Howard ran out after him. For better or for worse, he was going to get the truth. All of it.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Fortunately, Vince wasn't very hard to find, as Howard managed to track him down in less than ten minutes, sitting on a bench in the children's playground. There was a dejected slump to his shoulders, and even from this distance, Howard could see that he had his head in his hands. Tentatively, as though he were stepping over landmines, Howard approached, laying a hand on his shoulder. Vince jumped slightly, and looked up at him with wide, wary eyes.

"How'd you find me?"

"You never really were all that good at hide and seek."

Vince laughed weakly. A beat of silence passed.

"Did you mean what you said?" Howard asked slowly, feeling sick with adrenaline. "Back at the flat?"

Vince sighed. "Yeah, I meant it. What do I have to do to make you believe me? What, d'you want me to write you a poem or a sing you a little song? That ain't gonna happen, Howard. I'm not good with words. I'm not good at sayin' what I mean, or knowing when to shut up. I'm not smart - I'm not gonna sit around having intellectual discussions about Sartre or the economy all day. And I'm _never _gonna like jazz. I'm not some trophy girlfriend that's gonna just gonna look pretty and listen to you all day long. I'm not perfect, Howard, I get that. And you probably deserve better than me."

Howard's heart was thundering now. He felt as though he might pass out. He was hyper-aware of everything; his own breath coming in shortened gasps despite the cold, the light rain that had just begun to fall, needling his skin. Vince stood up, sliding off his wooden seat. He bit his lip and looked down before continuing in a shaky little voice:

"But I do love you. I love you more than anything I've ever felt before in my life, and I don't understand it and it scares me to death, but… if you - fuck, I dunno. If it's not the same for you, then I promise, we can just forget all of this and I'll _never _mention it again. But if you do feel the same… If you want this as much as I want it… if you want _me _as much as I want you… If you - if you _love _me, Howard, then please, just tell me now. Just tell me, an' we can stop all of this… I'm so tired, Howard, so tired of pretending and tryin' to hate you when that's the last thing I want to do… "

Whether or not Vince carried on speaking beyond that point, Howard didn't know, as he unconsciously tuned everything out, realising what was happening in a sudden moment of epiphany. Vince was saying, not for the first time, that he loved him. That he was _in _love with him. That he had been pining away in his belief that it was unrequited just as much as Howard had, if not more. God… they were so stupid. Vince was silent now as Howard looked at him, expression nervous but as open and honest as Howard had seen it in a long time. He seemed to move on autopilot, unable to stop himself from reaching out and caressing Vince's cheek, running his thumb over the soft skin. The smaller man gazed up at him with slightly glazed eyes and flicked his tongue out over dry lips, leaving a sheen of moisture behind. Howard caught himself staring, paralysed, unable to move or speak. And then Vince leaned up to press a quick, chaste kiss to his mouth. It probably lasted less than a second, but it was still enough to detonate an atomic bomb inside Howard's heart and mind, and as Vince went to pull away, he moved his hand to the back of his neck, holding him in place as he closed the gap between them fully.

For a moment, Vince was too shocked to respond, as he gasped into Howard's mouth - then he was kissing him back slightly hesitantly, as though he still wasn't sure whether or not this was really happening. His breath hitched in his throat, lashes growing damp at the realisation of his dreams in the form of Howard's kiss. The older man sucked on his trembling lower lip with far more confidence than he would normally have had, compensating for Vince's moment of insecurity. Then he was pulling away, and Vince whimpered slightly as teeth grazed the delicate skin of his bottom lip.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and then Vince looked down, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Howard lifted a hand to his face and tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

"Vince…" He began slowly, "I think we need to talk."

He seemed to tense up, all of a sudden - his eyes flickered over the peripheries, unable to maintain contact, and he jerked violently out of reach when Vince went to touch him. Vince swallowed nervously, mouth very dry.

"Howard? What's wrong?"

He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the answer, but the question had to be asked. Howard did look at him then, sighing sadly.

"I just… Is this really a good idea?"

At his words, the world threatened to spin off its axis and slam into the sun, but Vince somehow managed to maintain his precarious hold on it. After the way Howard had kissed him just then… well, he wasn't prepared to give up now, not after he had handed his heart and soul to Howard on a silver platter only moments earlier.

"What are you talkin' about?"

Howard's fingers touched Vince's cheek lightly, skimming over the porcelain skin like butterfly wings. They trailed over his jawline, and Vince shivered, remembering Howard's fist landing there mere weeks before. The bruise had long since faded, but the nerve endings still retained that memory, sparking at the caress that was so gentle by comparison.

"After everything that's happened, Vince… we're both so messed up right now. And I've already hurt you so much. I don't want to hurt you again. I'm not sure I could live with myself. And…"

"What?"

Howard looked away again, mumbling the rest of his answer.

"I don't want you to hurt _me_, either."

At that, Vince's face hardened almost imperceptibly.

"What d'you mean?"

"I just… I don't want to get involved in something now only for you to get bored a week, a month down the line and move on to some other conquest. I have no idea what that would do to me, and I don't want to be put in a position where I have to find out - Ow!"

The 'ow' was not intended to be a part of the sentence Howard had planned out in his head - rather, it came out as Vince slapped him across the face, quite hard in fact. Howard glanced down at him and swallowed hard. He looked mightily pissed off.

"What was that for?!"

"Haven't you been listening to anything I've said tonight?" Vince demanded. His voice wavered precariously, and Howard realised that he wasn't just angry - he was hurt. "Is that all you think I'm after? Sex? Do you really think I'm that shallow, Howard? And, no offence, but if that's what I wanted, I wouldn't put all this time and effort into trying to sweet-talk _you _into bed. I get people throwin' themselves at me every time I walk down the street. I can have sex any time I want, with _whoever_ I want."

He softened slightly, taking Howard's hand.

"But I want _you._ And not just for that - though obviously, yeah, I _do _want that, want it so much it hurts sometimes, but… I love you, Howard. And if you had any idea how fucking hard it is for me to say that… I'm no good at this kind of thing. I'm not supposed to think about things like this, I'm not supposed to care about anyone but myself. I'm not supposed to know about love, Howard, an' maybe I still don't. But I do know that the way I feel about you… You're the only person who ever liked me just for bein' me. You're the only person that gets to see me with me hair unstraightened and no make-up on, the only person that gets to see me cry, an' the only person that gets to see me really, properly happy. You're the only person that I don't have to put on an act for, the only person I've ever felt completely safe with. Not my parents, not Bryan Ferry, not Naboo or Bollo or Leroy or any of my other friends - _you. _Maybe I don't know a lot, Howard, but I do know that that's gotta be love. What else could it be?"

"How can you say that?" Howard asked miserably, avoiding meeting Vince's eyes once again. "How can you possibly say that I make you feel safe? I'm a failure, Vince - I can't protect you, I can't -"

"Howard…"

"Just listen -"

"No, _you _listen!" Vince shoved him roughly in the chest, a fire burning in his eyes that Howard was quite sure he had never seen before, more intense and passionate than he would ever have believed his ditzy friend to be capable of.

"Have you completely forgotten who you're talking to? I _know _you, better than anyone. I _know _you're not the heroic Man of Action you like to pretend to everyone that you are. I _know _that you never slayed any dragons, or pulled the sword from the stone, or whatever else it is that you're always bangin' on about. To be honest, you're a bloody coward! I mean, let's face it, I've saved your life far more times than you've saved mine."

"Thanks, Vince," Howard replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel loads better, thank you."

"But Howard, don't you think you're missin' the point a bit?! I'm a grown man - I'm thirty years old, I don't need _protecting. _I'm more than capable of lookin' after myself, most of the time. But I - I need _you _there to remind me that it's _okay _to let other people help every now and then. I never would have been able to cope this long if I didn't have you. When that poncey little twat came round and tried to steal my style, I would've just given up if it weren't for you, keepin' me going. Sometimes I wonder why the hell you still stick around with me, after everything I've done to you - I've been such a prick to you lately, Howard, and I'm so sorry. I have no idea why you put up with me, I really don't. I'm just glad that you do. And you _do _have it in you to be brave, I know you do."

Howard shook his head again. "I'm not brave, Vince. Not like you."

"_Me?!" _Vince echoed incredulously. "I'm not brave, Howard, I'm stupid. There's a difference. And I never could have done all the things I've done if I didn't have you there next to me. Everyone thinks I'm strong, but I'm only like that 'cause of you. I would be half the person that I am if it wasn't for you. All of this -" he made a vague gesture with his arms to incorporate his physical being "- all of this is _nothing_, Howard, just glitter and dust. Plastic and hairspray and silly, meaningless trinkets - that's all I am without you. What is it you're always tellin' me? It's what's inside that counts, right? Well, without you, I'd just be all hollow and empty, there wouldn't _be _anything inside of me. You came along when I had nothin' else, when I was just a lonely orphan on the streets, with no parents and no future, and you believed in me when no-one else would. I would be _nothing _without you, Howard - you moulded me out of Plasticine into who I am today. Yeah, you're not some fairytale Prince Charming ridin' in to sweep me off my feet, but I'm not exactly Cinderella either, so it's okay. I don't want some over-protective pillock to wrap me up in bubble wrap and treat me like a fucking china doll - that's the _last _thing I want. I don't need protecting, Howard - I just need _you_. You're one of the biggest fuck-ups on the planet, but then so am I, and I wouldn't want you

any other way. 'Cause then you wouldn't be _my _Howard. Besides, life wouldn't be quite so exciting if I wasn't 'avin' to drag you out of trouble every five minutes."

"Oh," Howard said. He wasn't quite sure what else to say. He was pretty sure that that was the most he'd ever heard Vince say in one go before. All he knew was that they were standing very, very close, and Vince was looking a little shy again now that his rant was over, worrying at his lower lip in an oh-so-tantalising manner.

"Howard…" He began, a little apprehensively, "You know when we were s'posed to be goin' to America for our big break, only I gave the captain a mullet and we got stranded that desert island with all the freaky coconuts…?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Howard feigned nonchalance, hardly daring to hope that Vince might be going where he thought he was going with this.

"Well, I… y'know when we 'ad all those whacked-out dreams after eating too many…? I sort of…remember some stuff happenin' , and I was wonderin' if… maybe… you remembered it too?"

"Yeah…" Howard said. His voice came out thick, husky. He cleared his throat nervously and tried again, "Yeah, I do."

"What…?"

"I remember… I remember the way you looked in the moonlight, and really realising for the first time just how irritatingly beautiful you are. I remember not being able to take my eyes off you. I remember kissing you, and thinking that this would be it for the rest of my life… And then I remember you saying that you loved me, and I… I ran away and left you. God, how could I have done that to you?! I'm sorry, Vince, I'm so sorry - I just got scared. I panicked, I thought you didn't mean it -"

"I did," Vince said softly, "I've always meant it. I still mean it now. What about… what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you…?"

"Yes."

The answer came immediately - no hesitations, no time for self-questioning or second-guessing. Howard took a deep breath, wondering vaguely why he was so nervous. Vince had already said he loved him, several times. What was the problem?

"I love you," he said at last, feeling an enormous weight lift from his shoulders as he did so. This time there was no laughter, no denials, so he continued.

"I love you so much that it makes my head spin just thinking about it, makes my brain hurt from trying to understand it. When I was away… I thought about you all the time. There wasn't a day went by that I didn't miss you, Vince, believe me. I don't even know how I could have left you in the first place. _That's _why I came back - not because of an advert or anything else, but because _I can't survive _without you. You can make even the dullest of things seem like fun - I never would have gotten through years of millet distribution if you weren't right there next to me acting as if it was as exciting as a trip to Disneyland. It sounds ridiculously corny, but whenever I'm with you, it's like everything's okay with the world, somehow. Your energy rubs off on me, and I can't quite keep up with you all the time, but you… you make me a better person, Vince. You make me want to _be _a better person. You're the most incredible person I've ever met. You're brilliant and beautiful and _infuriating _and utterly insane, and there's no-one else quite like you. And I… I think the world would be a much more depressing place without you in it."

"Oh," Vince said quietly, looking immensely touched. He pressed his palm against Howard's cheek and searched his eyes with a deep intensity.

"Why didn't you answer any of my calls?"

"What?"

"I rang you, like, three times, Howard. You didn't pick up once."

"Oh… I… My phone got stolen."

Vince frowned. "How did that happen?"

"I, um… I got mugged."

"Oh…" Vince breathed, running his hands possessively over Howard's face as though frisking him for any signs of physical injury. "Did they hurt you?"

"No."

"Good. 'Cause, you know, if they had, I'd've had to track them down and hurt _them. _I'd go all the way to Denmark, if I had to."

Howard laughed nervously. The worrying part was, he believed him. He doubted Vince even knew where Denmark was, but that was entirely irrelevant.

"Hey, Howard…?" Vince whispered in a shaky little voice.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could maybe… kiss me again?"

Before the sentence was even complete, Howard was leaning down to meet Vince's lips again, wrapping his arms around a slim waist and pulling him close. Vince gasped and kissed him back feverishly, hands coming round to the back of Howard's head and pulling him down. There was none of the gentle hesitation of the previous kiss - they were each desperate, frenzied, almost possessed; years of longing and frustration and passion and pain and loneliness and regret were poured into the mix, until all of it faded to a distant memory and nothing hurt anymore.

Howard's hands slid under Vince's t-shirt, climbing the ladder of his ribs, skimming his shoulder blades, wanting to touch every inch of him now that he finally had permission to do so . They slid up into his hair with a mind of their own, tugging gently and teasing the soft layers, and Howard felt rather than heard the moan their actions elicited.

Vince's tongue slipped inside his mouth, and it was Howard's turn to gasp at the feeling of it moving against his own. Explosions went off in his head, painting neon colours on the backs of his eyelids. He didn't ever want this moment to end; he felt as though he was touching heaven, reaching for Nirvana, as though some higher purpose had been revealed to him through the beautiful creature in his arms.

They parted slowly, resting their foreheads together, lips were not quite touching but still close enough so that they were sharing the same breath. Vince's eyes were still closed, the expression on his face one Howard could only describe as 'blissful'. His hand was hovered next to Howard's face, shaking slightly, not quite making contact.

"The fireworks are back," he breathed.

Howard didn't know what that meant. He decided he didn't need to know, so long as it meant that Vince had about as much intention of letting go as Howard did.

The sound of clapping broke the silence, and the couple managed to tear their gazes away from one another long enough to look around in confusion for the source of the noise. A small group of young women were stood by the entrance to the park, cheering as they watched their embrace with knowing grins.

"It's about time!" One of them yelled.

Vince found that their excitement was infectious, and he smiled to himself, tipping his head back to look at the sky. He felt as though he was walking on air, and Howard was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, stopping him from floating off into space.

Howard.

He still couldn't quite believe that, after all the angst and the drama of the past few months, they were finally okay again. That on its own would have been fantastic, but more than that - better than that - Howard loved him. Actually _loved _him. Just as much as he loved Howard. It felt like the start of a new life, as though he was being given the chance to put all of his wrongdoings, every stupid mistake and thoughtless insult of recent times - and there had been a _lot _of them - behind him and move on, begin anew with Howard at his side.

It was incredible. It was unbelievable.

And it was real.

It was properly dark now, but the Moon was unnaturally bright, cutting a clear circle through the blackness. Little clusters of stars hung between the clouds, forming their own individual cliques. Vince often imagined that they were having conversations, gossiping about the things they'd seen during their millennia of watching the earth. Sometimes, on rare occasions when he went up to the roof to think, he pretended that they were talking to him, whispering confessions in his ear. And sometimes he would just lie beneath them, basking in the feeling of being so, so small by comparison.

He needed that grounding more frequently than he would have liked to admit. When people constantly treated you like the centre of the universe, sometimes it helped to be reminded of your own insignificance.

"You okay, little man?" Howard asked, breaking into his thoughts. Vince turned to see the older man watching him with an adoring expression on his face, and blushed slightly under the attention.

"M'fine, Howard. More than fine. Just… y'know?" He flapped a hand around uselessly, trying to encompass the overwhelming nature of everything he was feeling at that moment in time.

Howard smiled gently. "Yeah, I think I get what you mean."

Vince shivered, and Howard wrapped an arm around him, drawing him close.

"You cold?"

"Mmm."

"Let's go home, shall we?"

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard was beginning to get nervous again, Vince could tell. Now that they were back at the flat, alone together in their shared bedroom, the practicalities of the recent change in their relationship status was starting to weigh on his mind. The gap between their two separate beds seemed wider than ever, the two feet of carpet space in between them stretching into a yawning chasm.

Vince, impulsive as ever he was, simply collapsed onto Howard's bed, and lay back invitingly amongst the drab beige sheets. Howard blinked at him, looking like a fish out of water, and Vince sighed affectionately and surveyed his friend in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.

"C'mon, Howard," he cajoled softly, "I'm not gonna hurt ya, I promise."

At his words, Howard flinched, and Vince somehow knew that he'd struck a nerve. Realisation dawned on him, and he propped himself up on one elbow in order to better see the other man. His entire body radiated tension, and his small eyes flitted all over the room, looking anywhere but at Vince. It had never occurred to Vince before now how a big man could seem so small.

"Howard… Are you okay? Come down here."

Howard did as asked, laying down on the narrow bed next to Vince, but he still refused to look at him, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Vince stroked his shoulder comfortingly, the older man as solid and unmoving as a rock beneath his touch. Vince was at a bit of a loss - he knew what the problem was, or at least he thought he did, but he had no idea how to reach Howard. He knew that he had to try, though - after all the times Howard had broken down _his _defences in the past, it was the least he could do. He ran his fingers up Howard's neck to his chin, tilting his face until he had no choice but to look him in the eye.

"Howard, you know we don't 'ave to do anything you don't want to, right? We can take things as slow or as fast as you like - I can wait."

"It's not really a question of _wanting _it, Vince," Howard mumbled, so quietly Vince had to strain in order to hear him. "Of course I want it, I want it more than I've ever wanted anything before. I just…"

He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish, but Vince understood, and he decided to ignore the fact that Howard's voice cracked slightly towards the end of his sentence. He'd never really seen Howard cry properly before, and he knew that he wasn't about to now, either - the other man would pull himself together in a few seconds.

But Vince found that he had to fight the urge to burst into tears himself as he thought of Eleanor and Old Gregg, and the fact that the only sexual experience Howard really had was that of the violent, abusive, possessive kind. And he had exacerbated the problem, hadn't he? By laughing and making fun of him, and never taking him seriously. No wonder Howard didn't want Vince touching him. He was lucky he even still wanted to speak to him.

He could make things better now, though. He knew he could.

"Howard…" He began in low voice, gently caressing the other man's face. "D'you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then you know that I'd never do anythin' to hurt you, right? An' no-one else is ever gonna hurt you again, either, not while I'm around. I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you before, but I'm here now, an' I'm listenin'. I love you, Howard. I love you so much…"

He pressed his lips to the space between Howard's neck and his shoulder to illustrate the point, feeling a pulse thrumming beneath the heated skin. Vince sighed and closed his eyes, turning his face inwards to breathe in all that was Howard - his own unique scent of old books and new soap and that aftershave he wore that Vince always pretended to hate but secretly couldn't get enough of. He didn't think he would ever grow tired of this…

"I don't want to let you down."

It took a good few seconds for Vince to even realise that Howard had spoken, before he tilted his head up again, eyes flicking open to gauge the severity of whatever Howard was thinking. As always, his face was entirely unreadable, a closed book that was double-padlocked and bound in chains tighter than Houdini's diary.

"Hmm?"

"I - Look, I'm not like you, Vince. I really have no idea what to do, here. I just don't want to end up disappointing you."

Vince surveyed him silently, wondering what he could say to put Howard at ease. As he was debating this, he shuffled closer to the other man in the already confined space, until there was scarcely room to slip a sheet of cling film between their bodies. Their space between their faces on the pillow could be counted with mere centimetres - from this distance, Vince had to pick which one of Howard's eyes to focus on.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He asked finally.

"Anything."

"I've, um… I've never really had proper sex before. I mean, I have, obviously… but just not the kind that's worth havin'. I've never really enjoyed it, never taken it slowly or been held afterwards… I've never really been all that, y'know… loved. So it'll be like a first time for both of us. And it doesn't matter if it's not technically brilliant, 'cause it's me an' you, and that's all that really counts anymore."

Vince suddenly felt horribly exposed and vulnerable, as though he'd just opened his chest right in front of Howard, and Howard was leaning right in there to examine his heart. In reality, Howard was saying nothing, just looking at him with an odd kind of happy-sad expression on his face. One hand was stroking up and down the bare skin of Vince's upper arm, raising goosebumps and drawing excited shivers from the smaller man. Vince's fingers toyed with the bottom of Howard's shirt before slipping to the band of flesh just underneath, tracing intricate patterns that only he could see. In a bold move, Howard moved his other hand to the lower part of Vince's back, sliding it under the waistband of his jeans, squeezing lightly. He watched in fascination as Vince gasped and jerked, lips parted and cheeks flushed as his eyes rolled shut.

"Howard…" He whispered somewhat nervously. His gaze flickered all over Howard's face, darting from his eyes to his mouth and then back up to his eyes again. He licked his lips unconsciously, and Howard found that suddenly _he _was the one who was unable to look away.

"Howard, do you want -?"

"Yes."

Before Vince even had time to blink, he found himself being crushed to Howard in a searing kiss that made him feel as though fire was flooding his whole body. This time, it wasn't frenzied and desperate, nor was it shy and sweet, or awkward and forced. It was bridling with tightly controlled passion, a slow-burning heat that smouldered between them until they were all but consumed by it, screaming a thousand silent declarations of love.

Vince explored Howard's mouth with his tongue, slowly, as if he was mentally drawing up a topographical map of the area to be stored away and used at a later date. He wound his fingers through the curls that grew at the nape of Howard's neck and hummed contentedly against his lips. He felt as though he could happily live in this moment for the rest of time; the world could grow and change and evolve around them, but as long as he stayed in this bed, in this embrace, he would remain young and beautiful forever.

Howard ran his hand down Vince's side, feeling the ridges created by his ribs through the thin material of his t-shirt, down to the slight curve of his hip where the hand stilled, staking its claim. Their legs tangled slowly together, a movement that was unconscious on both their parts, bringing their bodies ever closer.

Howard shifted slightly, and Vince took the opportunity to move over the top of him, straddling his body. Howard's eyes widened, but he didn't complain as Vince leaned down to kiss him again. It was funny, mused the one tiny corner of Vince's brain that wasn't solely occupied by what he was doing, that he wasn't just desperate to ravish Howard after wanting and waiting and silently pining away for so long, now that he had him where he wanted him at last. But it was just the opposite - now that they had finally admitted this to one another, they could take it as slow as they liked - they had all the time in the world.

Vince's hair fell in a dark veil around them, shielding them from the rest of the world. Maybe this _was _the world, just the two of them and this bed. Anything could be happening beyond their thin plywood door - nuclear war, alien invasion, the sun going supernova - and it wouldn't matter, so long as they were still entwined with one another when the fallout cleared.

Vince pulled back a little to gaze down at the man beneath him. There was a look of shocked awe in those small brown eyes, staring up at Vince as though he was some kind of ethereal, Godlike being.

"You are so beautiful…" Vince whispered, caressing Howard's cheek with a hand.

The shocked look increased; the eyes widened to almost normal size.

"Um… Aren't I supposed to be the one saying that to you…?"

Vince smiled fondly. "You have no idea, do you?" He shook his head. "Has no-one ever told you just how… bloody… _gorgeous_… you are?"

Each pause was punctuated with soft kisses as he extended his exploration from Howard's mouth to the surrounding regions, pressing his lips to his jaw, his chin, his collarbone, placing wet open-mouthed kisses against the pulse point in his neck. Howard moaned and clutched Vince's head to him as his tongue lapped over a certain spot behind his ear that sent a rush of blood straight to his groin.

"You like that?" Vince murmured, and did it again, and again, until Howard's moans became little more than high-pitched whimpers. Vince smiled to himself, filing that little bit of information away for use at a later date before moving on. He could feel how aroused Howard was beneath him, and he was fast becoming aware of his own excitement pressing against the front of his jeans.

Howard couldn't quite find the words with which to describe what Vince was doing to him, but if this was what they had been missing out on all this time, he had to wonder why on earth they hadn't started long ago. Then again, maybe it wouldn't have been so meaningful if it had happened that way - as it was, it felt as though every look that had passed between them over the years, every illicit touch, every fight and every misplaced 'I love you' had been building up to _this _exact moment. To think that if even one thing had played out differently, it might not even be happening…

All such thoughts were driven from his head as Vince began to work on unfastening his shirt, looking out at him from under his lashes as he did so, biting his lip, deliberately seductive. The look alone almost caused Howard to moan aloud. How could he have resisted _that _for so long? Then Vince was undoing the last button, pushing the material from his shoulders, and Howard really _did _moan aloud as sharp teeth nicked his collarbone, immediately soothed by the flick of a moist tongue against his skin.

"God… Vince…!"

He couldn't help gasping the younger man's name as he kissed and nibbled and licked his way down his torso - after all, he was only human. Vince, meanwhile, was glowing with a kind of strange, second-hand delight at Howard's reactions. He'd heard Howard say he loved him more times than he could count, and now he believed it, but it wasn't until this moment that it had truly dawned on him that Howard wanted _him. _It was an incredible thought, almost too much for his brain cell to handle.

He rested his chin on Howard's stomach and looked up at him again, not teasing this time, but a little shy and rather beautiful. Before he had even made an active decision to do so, Howard flipped them over so that their positions were reversed and he was on top. Vince looked up at him, brow crinkled adorably with confusion.

"Howard, what…?"

Howard pressed a finger to Vince's lips, effectively shutting him up. He didn't exactly know what had prompted him to take the initiative - as he had pointed out before, he really had no idea what he was doing - but he did know that he planned to draw this out as long as possible. It felt wrong, to rush it, to get it over with quickly. Howard had the feeling that Vince had often cheapened himself during sex in the past, and he didn't want that to happen here - he wanted to make him feel as worthy and special as he deserved, as he _was_.

He removed his finger, and Vince opened his mouth again to say something else, but Howard never heard what it was as he captured his lips once more, swiping his tongue in between them and grazing the plump flesh with his teeth. He didn't linger, though, moving away before Vince had a chance to respond properly and dotting little kisses over his cheekbones, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. Vince melted into the mattress and gripped Howard's shoulder blades tightly, and then Howard was pulling back, pausing briefly to look at him before sliding down the length of his body.

He set about slowly tugging off his boots first - though he had indulged in past fantasies that involved Vince and his beloved footwear, they could wait until a later date. Now wasn't the time. He peeled away odd socks and then reached for Vince's belt, pulling it through the loops and buckle before slipping open the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper.

Howard had no idea how Vince managed to squeeze into the things every day, but they were bloody difficult to get off, and in the end Vince had to half-kneel up to help him, giggling slightly as he did so. Once he was free of them, Howard gently pushed him back down onto the bed and parted his legs, mouthing soft kisses at the inside of his thigh, the sensitive patch where no hair grew close to the join of his hip. It occurred to Howard once again that he had virtually no clue as to what he was doing, but judging by Vince's reactions, he must have been getting _something _right, as the smaller man whined and keened and arched against the bed, carding his fingers through Howard's hair.

"Oh, God, Howard, please don't stop," he begged, "I _need _you… All of you. _Everything."_

Howard suppressed the shudder that ran through him at the implications of that _'everything'_, and slid his fingers under the hem of Vince's t-shirt, slowly pushing the fabric up his body and claiming every new inch of flesh that was revealed to him with his mouth, pouring kisses over the swathe of skin just above the elastic of Vince's underwear, his stomach, so worryingly flat it was almost concave, the ladder of his ribs. His teeth fixed around a nipple and Vince gasped and spasmed under him. He located the famous 'Nicky Clarke' scar and traced it gently with his tongue, before treating each of the still-fading bruises that decorated his body with more fleeting kisses.

By this stage, Vince had been suitably reduced to a writhing, whimpering mass of raw nerve endings. He felt as though his whole body was alight as Howard worshipped every part of him with his hands and mouth. It was the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced. He didn't exactly know what this was, but he knew that it couldn't be sex - to Vince, the word 'sex' meant alleyways and alcohol, violence, filth, blood needles shame abuse guilt. This couldn't have been any further removed from all of that - this was something so much deeper, something that could be seen in Howard's eyes as he pulled away slightly to look down at him with what could only be described as awe, as though Vince was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. Vince didn't need to be able to see his own face to know that it was mirroring that exact same expression.

He shivered as Howard pulled the t-shirt over his head and then ran his tongue all the way up from the hollow of his throat to the underside of his chin before nuzzling the space where his neck met his shoulder. Vince responded with a strangled cry he barely recognised as his own as he felt the stubble brush his skin.

Finally, Howard raised his head to meet Vince's gaze again and cupped the side of his face, brushing his cheekbone with his thumb. Vince looked up at him, heavy-lidded, eyes darker than Howard had ever seen them before.

The next few minutes seemed to pass in a hazy blur as they rolled about on the bed, moving together as they slowly stripped one another. Before long, they were both naked, and Howard's arms encircled Vince's waist as he pulled them both into a kneeling position, moving back a little in order to better see the other man. What he _did _see took his breath away completely.

"God, Vince, you're…" He let the end of the sentence hang, unable to find the right adjective to finish it with. _What _was he, exactly? Stunning? Exquisite? Divine? Any would have been true, but none seemed to truly capture the way he felt about Vince at that moment in time. His skin seemed almost iridescent in the small pool of moonlight coming in through the window, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink. His carefully constructed hairstyle was rapidly coming undone, the layers framing his face in loose waves and cascading over his collarbone, ebony on ivory.

And those eyes… Howard had admired those eyes from afar for years now; their gigantic proportions, as though they would have been better placed on a cartoon character rather than a human being. And their incredible blue colour that almost seemed to slip between shades. Howard had seen every emotion under the sun shine out from those eyes within the last few years, from joy to humiliation, amusement to frustration, but never before had they seemed so open to him as they did now, displaying a heady cocktail of excitement, vulnerability, shyness, desire, and a thousand other things that, when combined, could only be described with a single word, humbling and entirely overwhelming - _love. _If ever Howard had doubted it, he knew it now. The way Vince was looking at him, not just appreciative, but _reverent, _as though he was some kind of ancient Greek deity rather than a very ordinary jazz-loving shop assistant.

Vince was well aware of the fact that he was probably staring at Howard, but he didn't think he could have stopped even if he wanted to. Which he definitely didn't. He'd always known, even before he'd been consciously aware of his feelings for the other man, that Howard was actually incredibly good-looking underneath the corduroy and Hawaiian shirts. But now that it was out on decadent display for him, it was undeniable. Howard was… Vince cursed his inability to find the right words and momentarily wished he'd paid more attention in school. He was unbelievably sexy, was what he was; a light sheen of sweat coating his skin, all broad chest and shoulders and big, strong Northern arms. His hair was even more scruffily dishevelled than usual from Vince running his hands through it, sticking up at odd angles and hanging down on his face. And though his eyes were small, they were more powerful than any others Vince had ever seen, and now they seemed to cut right through him and stare into the very core of his being. He could sense how very much Howard wanted him in the way his darkened gaze raked possessively over his body, quite sure this was the first time in his life that he had ever felt truly beautiful.

"Come here," Howard said quietly, almost echoing Vince's words from earlier. It was odd how their roles seemed to have reversed, Howard now taking the lead, but then maybe that was the way it was always meant to be.

Vince did as he was asked, moving towards Howard until he was close enough to feel the heat from the bigger man's body. He pressed the palm of his right hand against Howard's wonderingly, interlocking their fingers, loving the way they looked, entwined with one another. His other hand grasped Howard's hip gently, thumb stroking over soft skin while Howard lightly caressed his cheek before releasing Vince's hand and catching him up in his arms until his elbows locked and their chests were pressed tightly against one another. Their lips grazed together fleetingly, as Howard's hands slowly made the journey down along Vince's spine, feeling each of the alarmingly protruding vertebrae, before grasping his backside and bringing their lower bodies into alignment.

Both men gasped aloud at that delicious feeling of bare skin on bare skin, liquid fire igniting in their stomachs and ripping through their entire nervous systems. Vince dropped his head and mouthed at Howard's shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, tasting sweat beneath his tongue. They rocked gently against one another for a while, little gasps and cries rising from each of them. Then it occurred to Vince how close he was to the edge, and how he didn't want it to be over so quickly, how much he desperately wanted to do it properly for once, so he raised his head again to whisper a little nervously in Howard's ear;

"_I want you."_

Howard shuddered a little, both at Vince's words and the sensation of warm breath tickling his face and neck. He pulled back to study the younger man's face intently - the implication of what he'd said was clear enough, but Howard needed to be sure. Vince was looking up at him, a little shyly perhaps, but the look in his eyes was one of absolute commitment.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Howard admitted quietly, "I don't want to hurt you."

As he spoke, a wave of nervousness crashed over him - because he really _didn't _know what he was doing. Up until a few weeks ago, he'd never had proper sex before, and he'd still never had it with another man. He _wanted _it, so much it almost frightened him, but at the same time he also wanted to make it good for Vince - especially after his earlier admission that he'd never really enjoyed sex before - and was afraid that his lack of experience would let him down.

"You won't hurt me, Howard," Vince informed him, smiling brightly, "I trust you."

And Howard felt like crying then, the expression of pure devotion on Vince's face almost too much for him to handle.

"Just, um… I need to get myself ready, first." Vince told him, the colour in his cheeks deepening. Howard nodded and, much as it pained him to do so, released the smaller man to give him some space. Vince patted his cheek reassuringly and then slid off the edge of the bed, crossing over to his own side of the room and fumbling in his chest of drawers for something.

Once he'd returned, Howard spent the next ten or so minutes watching Vince prepare himself for what was to come. It was at once the most arousing and terrifying thing he'd ever seen; he wasn't even sure whether the pterodactyl-sized butterflies crashing about in his stomach were down to nerves or excitement.

"I'm ready," Vince breathed finally, after what seemed like a lifetime. Howard moved over to rest on top of him, settling his weight fully between Vince's legs. Vince smiled again, but Howard noticed that it was a little shaky.

"You scared?" He whispered.

"Terrified," Howard admitted.

"Yeah. Me too. But I want this, Howard, more than anything."

That was the final push that Howard needed, and slowly, inch by inch, he joined them together, unable to help the deep moan that escaped him at the sheer blissful feeling of it, like nothing else on earth. Vince bit his lip and closed his eyes at the sensations from his perspective - not quite pleasure, not quite pain, but some kind of halfway house that was at once intolerable and incredible. He knew that that would change, though, once he got used to the feeling of Howard inside him, and God, but he couldn't wait for that. All physical aspects aside, it felt like not just a merging of the bodies, but as if their very souls were fusing together; as though, at that moment in time, Howard knew everything there was to know about Vince and Vince could see every tiny facet of Howard, as though each of them were witnessing the past, present and future of the other's lives, everything they had ever been and were ever going to be.

Howard rested his forehead against Vince's, closing his eyes and panting heavily. The feelings assaulting his body were almost too much for him to handle, and he had to remember to pace himself, or he wouldn't last very long at all. He pulled back a little to look at Vince, wanting to make sure that he was doing it right, that everything was okay. Vince blinked up at him with big Bambi eyes as he ran a thumb along his lower lip, gently plucking it from between his teeth, and then pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"You were hurting yourself," he explained needlessly.

"Was I?" Vince breathed. He looked a little dazed.

"Are you okay?"

"_More _than okay, Howard."

Vince rocked his hips slightly to illustrate the point, whining when the action caused Howard to slide in even deeper. Howard took this as his cue to start moving again, pulling back agonisingly slowly, relishing every sound that his actions provoked. A large part of him still couldn't quite believe that it was_him _who was pulling such wanton noises of desire from Vince's throat, but unbelievably, it seemed to be true.

Gradually, they fell into a sort of rhythm, sweat-slicked bodies sliding against one another, feeling the heat building between them. Vince wrapped his legs around Howard and lifted his head up to kiss every part of him he could reach; his chest, his collarbone, his neck… occasionally their lips fell against one another, and every time that happened, it sent a fresh spark of electricity directly from their mouths to their groins. Howard toyed with the ends of Vince's hair, grinning in spite of himself when the attention to his precious locks caused the younger man to sigh deeply.

Then Vince jolted sharply and cried out as Howard hit a certain spot inside him, hands fisting in the bed sheets, the tremor that shot through his body eliciting a groan from Howard at the same time. Howard re-aligned his hips and attempted to make contact in the same place again, knowing he'd succeeded when Vince bucked against him and whimpered pitifully. He began picking up the pace, until Vince was little more than a writhing mess beneath him, mumbling incoherently under his breath. Howard strained to hear what he was saying, blinking in surprise and awe when he realised what it was.

Just one word. _Howard. _His name, over and over again - a plea, a mantra.

Every time Howard managed to touch him _there, _Vince felt a flash fire the likes of which he had never experienced before rip through his entire being. He barely felt real, let alone human; he existed now on some other plane of existence, where he could feel nothing but those bursts of pure liquid desire rhythmically flooding his system. He wanted - no, needed - for it to last forever, and yet at the same time, he wasn't sure he could bear it for that long without combusting.

"Howard…" He begged finally, voice high and needy, "Howard, touch me… _please…_"

Howard complied without a second's questioning, curling his hand around Vince and stroking in time to his thrusts. Their movements were becoming erratic now, losing all sense of rhythm; kisses grew sloppy and less deliberate, often missing their intended targets as they panted harshly against each other's mouths. Vince's head lolled back against the pillows, and Howard attacked the exposed white throat, biting and sucking, secretly delighting in the soft mewls he felt vibrating in Vince's larynx and the way his nails raked desperately against his back. The bed was creaking violently, and Howard was sure that their flatmates would hear, but he didn't care - he _wanted _them to hear, wanted the whole of London to hear, because Howard Moon and Vince Noir were making love so intensely that the headboard was slamming against the wall as the whole earth moved with them.

Howard knew from the familiar tightening in the pit of his stomach that he was close, but he could tell that Vince wouldn't last much longer either, and he wanted to watch him, to see his face as he climaxed before succumbing to the inevitable himself.

"Vince… Vince, open your eyes."

Howard couldn't help the thrill he felt at the way Vince responded immediately, lashes flickering open to reveal the sky-coloured irises. His breath caught in his throat as Vince looked up at him, sweaty and flustered and a picture of pure rapture. He traced one finger over a razor-sharp cheekbone, looking the way Vince shuddered beneath his touch.

"I love you," he whispered huskily.

The words, coupled with the extra deep thrust and twist of Howard's hand that accompanied them, were too much for Vince to bear, and he seemed to freeze for a moment, before his eyes were rolling back in his head as he reached his peak, mouth falling open as he all but _screamed _Howard's name…

Howard held off on his own orgasm for as long as could, but Vince shuddering and clenching around him as his muscles were sent into spasm was simply too much for him to bear, and he came so dramatically that his vision blurred for a moment, before he was collapsing on top of Vince, exhausted.

They lay like that for the longest time, utterly spent. Howard wondered vaguely whether he'd died, but he couldn't have done, because he remembered being dead once before, and it had never been quite so perfect as this.

Finally, when he'd gathered what was left of his strength, he rolled off of Vince and lay on the tiny strip of mattress beside him, making a mental note to buy a bigger bed if this was going to become a regular thing. Which he sincerely hoped it was.

Vince nuzzled his head into Howard's chest, feeling more contented than he ever had done in his life as he felt solid arms encircle him, gentle fingers playing absently with his hair. They were both still hot and sticky and sweaty, but neither could really be bothered to do anything about it right at that moment in time.

"Don't ever leave me again, Howard," Vince pleaded, beginning to drop off already. Howard stroked his back soothingly, trying to ignore the guilt twisting his guts.

"I won't, I promise. Never again. I love you."

"For always?"

Howard smiled at the sleepy, childlike quality of his voice.

"Yeah. For always, little man."

- - - - - X - - - - -

Howard awoke slowly the next morning, realising two things as he did so:

1) For the first time in a very long while, he was actually waking up _happy, _rather than dreading the day ahead of him.

2) For the first time _ever, _he was waking up with another warm body curled up next to him.

Well, actually, on _top _of him would have been a more accurate description, as Vince was still sound asleep with a leg flung across his stomach, his head cushioned on Howard's chest, hand resting over his heart. Howard smiled as memories of the previous night came back for him, careful to remain perfectly still so as not to disturb Vince.

Not that he needed to have bothered - within about five minutes, the younger man was beginning to stir, yawning and stretching, almost whacking Howard in the face in the process. They _definitely _needed a bigger bed. _Finally, _Vince rolled onto his stomach and tilted his head up, looking at Howard from under his fringe with bleary eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey. Sleep well?"

The last part of that greeting was said with much amusement as Vince broke into another gigantic yawn.

"Like a log. Wonder why that could be."

Howard smiled again, somewhat nervously this time. "So, last night, it was… I mean, was it… okay?"

Vince rolled his eyes, shaking his head in fond amusement.

"Howard. Do you really need to ask? It was amazing," he said softly, moving up so that he was face level with Howard and leaning down to kiss him. _This_, Howard decided, _this_ was a morning kiss - different again to all their others, lazy and languorous and drawn out, not particularly going anywhere, both of them just enjoying the feel of one another as their lips and tongues moved slowly together…

Eventually, Vince pulled away, unsure of himself again. Howard had seen that expression on him so many times over the last 24 hours, but it had been so rare in all the years of their friendship that it still took him by surprise.

"Was it okay for you, then?"

"Well, I dunno," Howard replied, after much consideration, "I haven't really got much to compare it to."

Vince looked so hurt by this that Howard instantly regretted his words. "Vince, I'm just joking. It was incredible. _You're _incredible."

Vince blushed at this - that was something Howard had to get used to as well. He looked so ridiculously cute with his hair all messed around his head as a result of sleep and… other things, that Howard found he couldn't resist the urge to run a finger down the centre of his nose

"You're adorable."

Vince started snickering abruptly, as if something hilarious had just occurred to him.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just, we sound like a proper cheesy couple now."

"We _are _a proper cheesy couple now, Vince."

Vince raised an eyebrow. "Really. And what do I call you, then? If we're a proper cheesy couple?"

Howard frowned in confusion, struggling as ever he did to keep up with Vince's 'logic'.

"Err… what? Sorry, I'm not following."

"You know, like a pet name! What d'you fancy? Baby?"

Howard suppressed a shudder. "I'm not _twelve_, Vince."

"Darlin'?"

"Too _Eastenders._"

"Honeybunch?"

"Are you ill?"

"… Fluffykins?"

"Now you're just being silly. What about… Howard?"

"Dunno. S'a bit borin', innit?"

"Oi! That's my name, thank you very much."

"I rest my case."

"It's not as bad as _yours." _Howard huffed, even though he was secretly loving this whole exchange, just like the banter of old.

"What's wrong with mine, exactly?"

"Well, what kind of a name's 'Vince' for a prancing Camden androgyne? You sound like a forty-year-old Hell's Angels reject."

"As if! My name's French! It's the language of love, Howard, you can't argue with that."

"Sorry… _Vincent."_

"Don't call me that." Vince mumbled, embarrassed.

"Why not?"

"_No-one _calls me that."

"I do."

"Since when?"

"… Now."

"Whatever," Vince rolled his eyes, "I need a shower. Coming with?"

Howard was unable to hide his enthusiasm at _that _suggestion, and Vince grinned, satisfied with his victory.

- - - - - X - - - - -

Late that evening, Howard was reclining on the sofa, watching the TV without much interest, while Vince lay between his legs, head on his chest, which appeared to be his new favourite position. Howard's right hand was distractedly playing with his hair, twirling the strands around his fingers, while his left hand had crept under Vince's t-shirt and was stroking slow circles on the soft skin of his stomach.

The programme they had been watching ended, and Howard began flicking through channels with the remote. Vince moaned softly as the attention to his hair ceased, and Howard smirked, setting the remote back down again to continue his ministrations.

"Thought you didn't like people playing with your hair, little man."

"Thought _you _didn't like being touched," Vince countered.

Neither of them moved.

Just then, Naboo and Bollo staggered into the room, bringing with them a cloud of probably highly potent smoke. They both stopped and stared and Howard and Vince entwined together on the sofa.

"Bollo no need to see that,"

Naboo continued to look at them, until they both squirmed under his gaze.

"Look, Naboo," Howard began, "we can explain this -"

"So, you got there in the end, then?" Naboo cut him off. "Too you long enough. You two were just about the only people who didn't see this comin'."

Howard and Vince exchanged confused glances.

"I hope this doesn't mean that you're plannin' on movin' out?"

"'Course not!" Vince sounded outraged at the very idea. "We love this place!"

Howard coughed suspiciously into his hand, but Naboo chose to ignore it.

"Good. 'Cause it's gonna take you at least another ten years of work before you've earned enough to pay off all your back rent. Oh, and no funny business in the shop, yeah? Don't need you scarin' away all me customers."

"What customers?" Vince asked cheekily. Naboo rolled his eyes and stalked off. Bollo continued to scrutinise them.

"Harold take care of Precious Vince. Or Bollo rip his arms off."

"Yeah… Thanks for that…"

"We're not watchin' this!" Vince protested, realising that Howard had conveniently stopped channel-flicking on a documentary about the history of jazz.

"What would you suggest we watch, then?"

"…MTV?"

"No way. There is no way you're getting me to watch that mindless crap."

"I thought you loved me, Howard."

Howard pinched the bridge of his nose and counted very slowly all the way to ten.

"Love is about compromises, Vince. You know? Sacrifices. Sometimes, you do something you don't particularly want to do for the person you love, because you know it'll make them happy."

"… So we _can_ watch MTV, then?"

Howard pretended to be annoyed that Vince had somehow managed to win, yet _again, _but he didn't really care. Especially not when their eyes met, and Vince somehow managed to straddle him on the tiny sofa, kissing him deeply and grinding against him in a way that was _definitely _leading somewhere.

"What about the TV?" Howard asked in a tiny voice, not really knowing why he was bothering.

"Fuck the TV," Vince whispered hotly in his ear.

"Mmm…" Howard's hands came up to grasp denim-clad thighs. "Rather fuck you…"

Vince laughed at the expression of shocked embarrassment that crept onto Howard's face as he realised what he'd said, cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Howard Moon, who knew you had such a filthy mouth…?"

"I can't hear you!" Naboo yelled, coming back into the room with his hands clamped over his ears and his eyes screwed shut. He looked so ridiculous that Howard and Vince promptly burst out laughing. And that was the best thing of all, really, but it was so _them. _Some things really did never change…

- - - - - X - - - - -

And that's pretty much the end of the story. For now, anyway. Of course, things still weren't perfect - not by a long way. Love doesn't solve your problems, after all - it just made them seem that little bit more bearable.

Howard was still as neurotic and paranoid as ever - he still managed to get himself into all kinds of stupid trouble, and, in Vince's opinion anyway, still listened to far too much jazz. The emotional scars from his past abuse still ran deep, and it would be a long and difficult journey before would heal fully, if they ever did. But at least now Vince would help him, instead of adding to the abuse.

As for Vince, he was still affected by his abandonment issues, as became apparent when more and more of his 'friends' disappeared after it was made clear that he was no longer interested in the clubbing scene. Though he claimed not to care about them, their attitudes clearly had a serious effect on his self-confidence, and he became more and more dependent on Howard, to the point where he was as clingy as he had been back at the zoo. As concerned as he was about Vince's mental welfare, a small, selfish part of Howard couldn't help enjoying this slightly, rather than taking it for granted the way he had before.

Two weeks from now, Naboo would send them on an 'errand' to the other side of the world in order to get him some 'supplies' (i.e.: drugs), which would result in several scenes of torture from which they would barely escape with their lives. There would also be plenty of passionate love-making as they camped in their tent under the stars, although this would never make the final cut, not intended for the eyes of the general public.

Speaking of Naboo, a significant change could be seen in his general attitude to life. The high levels of love radiating through the flat were obviously having an affect on him, and he could often be seen smiling over the hookah. Howard swore he even saw him singing once, though no-one was ever quite sure whether or not to believe him on that.

After Vince having several words with him, Bollo went out of his way to be civil to Howard and remember his name. He had limited success, but it was the thought that counted.

Bob Fossil disappeared suddenly one day after Howard made a surprise appearance at his place of residence to 'have a chat'. No-one quite knew where he disappeared to, but rumour had it that he had hooked up with Dixon Bainbridge, who was recently released from prison, and the two of them were planning world domination. The Velvet Onion came under new management, and Vince was able to carry on doing what he loved - singing - without fear of sexual harassment. He and Howard started spending more time on the band, and when they played together, people stopped throwing tin cans at them. They even had a few fans, and there was talk of a record deal in the wings.

Leroy stopped drinking, inspired by Vince's example, and managed to find himself a steady girlfriend to take skiing with him.

"Cuppa tea?"

This was the same question that Vince had asked many times before in the past, and would probably ask hundreds more times again in the future. But one particular night, not long after he and Howard had finally confessed their feelings for one another, he asked it after finding Howard on the roof, talking to the stars. He was secretly thrilled that he wasn't the only one to do such a thing.

"Watcha thinkin'?" He asked, sitting down next to Howard and handing him his tea without waiting for an answer.

"Dunno. Just wondering… what do you think would have happened if things had turned out differently? What if I'd never gone off with Jurgen Haabermaster? D'you think we'd still be where we were before, fighting all the time and too afraid to change anything? Or what if we'd gotten together back at the Zooniverse? Would we still be together now?"

Vince leaned his head against Howard's shoulder, contemplating this for a while.

"I think you think too much," he said finally.

Sometimes, a single thread is all that holds a relationship together. But no matter the extent of the damage, as long as that one thread remains there is some small hope of fixing what can seem irreparable. No-one can ever really hope to know what the final tapestry will look like before those threads have finished weaving together. You can only ever guess, trust in your instincts, take that leap of faith - and hope that you succeed.

So, no - things still weren't perfect. They probably never would be. But for now, at least, they were as close as they were ever going to get.

And for Howard and Vince, as long as they had each other, that would always be enough.

_- - x The End x - -_

* * *

So here we are, 13 months, 20 chapters, 40 author's notes, over 90,000 words, several writer's blocks, heaps of frustration and about enough caffeine to make an elephant jump, and it feels very weird to finally be leaving 'Threads' behind - it must be one of the longest-running stories on here. Or at least, that's what it's felt like at times, though admittedly that's mostly down to my own laziness in updating. But seriously, when I first started this back in February 2008, I had no idea that it was going to spiral into this massive project, or that it would become so popular, so huge thanks to everyone who's given me their support and made it possible. I think I'm going to miss it, as much grief as it's given me over the last year (has it really been _that _long? Apparently so.)

I very much doubt that there will be a sequel; even if the boys _do _write a fourth series, it won't be for a very long time, and would probably render all of this AU. I may do a few oneshots set in the Threads 'verse, though, because I'm not quite ready to let it go completely yet! As for future projects - well, I do have a few things planned that I'm actually pretty excited about. I hope to get started on them pretty soon

A general notice: From now on, I will not be posting my stories on here. It makes me a little sad to say that, because this is where I started out, and it will always have a special place in my heart, but I feel as though it's time for me to move on. However, my fic journal on LJ is open to the public, so anyone can read it even if they don't want to join the site. I will post the link to it on my profile page shortly. But not now, because I'm knackered.

And now there's really only one thing left for me to say: roll the credits!

**__**

DISCLAIMERS:

The Mighty Boosh and all of its affiliated characters, concepts, settings, dialogue, etc belong to its wonderful creators, Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding. Also Steve Coogan, Henry Normal and all the Babycow Productions people, and I guess the BBC as well, because they scare me. No copyright infringement is intended and I'm not making any money from this (sadly). It's all just good clean(ish) fun.

'Nancy Boy' lyrics belong to Placebo.  
'Call Me When You're Sober' lyrics belong to Evanescence.  
'A Design For Life' lyrics belong to Manic Street Preachers.  
'I Know It's Over' lyrics belong to The Smiths.  
'Don't Speak' lyrics belong to No Doubt.  
'Tainted Love' lyrics belong to Soft Cell.  
'Poison' lyrics belong to Alice Cooper.  
'Every You Every Me lyrics belong to Placebo.

The plot (_what_ plot?!), as well as all original characters, concepts and settings, belong to me.

_With thanks to:  
_Everyone who has reviewed this story since February last year. Seriously, thanks so much - your suppost has been phenomenal, and I never would have gotten this finished without you. It's been an incredible journey, and I just hope you've all had as much fun reading it as I have writing it. And thanks to everyone who has been reading without reviewing too. The fact that you've stuck with it this long means so much

_Specials thanks (and massive hugs) to:  
_The brilliant, hilarious, gorgeous, and - I'm not gonna lie - totally _insane_ LJ Family. I don't know what I would have done without you over the past year - you've picked me up when I was down, made me laugh when I've been high (not literally. I don't do drugs), nagged me enough to finish this bloody story, and basically kept me... well, perhaps not s_ane, _but saner than I would have been otherwise. The past year has been one of the best of my life, despite some less-than-great things that have happened, and you're the best friends a girl could hope to have. I love you all so, so much 3

And last but most definitely not least, thanks to the wonderful, hilarious, immensely talented, and yes, I'll admit it, just a little bit sexy Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding, for having the imaginations to create such a beautifully insane world in the first place. I never would have had the inspiration to write this if it wasn't for them. Which kind of goes without saying, really.

So, that's it now (incredibly).

The Official and Proper End.

__

… But is it really the end?

Yeah. It is.

No, really.

You can all go now.

Just be sure to click that little button at the bottom of the page one last time before you do.

Thanks for reading, and I love you all!

xxx


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